Charles Bukowski

One day I was at the bar between races and I saw this woman. God or somebody keeps creating women and tossing them out on the streets, and this one’s ass is too big and that one’s tits are too small and this one is mad and that one is crazy and that one is a religionist and that one reads tea leaves and this one can’t control
her farts, and that one has this big nose, and that one has boney legs . . .
But now and then, a woman walks up, full blossom, a woman just bursting out of her dress . . . a sex creature, a curse, the end of it all. I looked up and there she was, down at the end of the bar. She was about drunk and the bartender wouldn’t serve her and she began to bitch and they called one of the track cops and the track cop had her by the arm, leading her off, and they were talking.

I finished my drink and followed them.

“Officer! Officer!”

He stopped and looked at me.

“Has my wife done something wrong?” I asked.

“We believe that she is intoxicated, sir. I was going to escort her to the gate.”

“The starting gate?”

He laughed. “No, sir. The exit gate.”

“I’ll take over here, officer.”

“All right, sir. But see that she doesn’t drink anymore.”

I didn’t answer. I took her by the arm and led her back in.

“Thank god, you saved my life,” she said.

Her flank bumped against me.

“It’s all right. My name’s Hank.”

“I’m Mary Lou,” she said.

“Mary Lou,” I said, “I love you.”

She laughed.

“By the way, you don’t hide behind pillars at the opera house, do you?”

“I don’t hide behind anything,” she said, sticking her breasts out.

“Want another drink?”

“Sure, but he won’t serve me.”

“There’s more than one bar at this track, Mary Lou. Let’s take a run upstairs. And keep quiet. Stand back and I will bring your drink to you. What’re you drinking?”

“Anything,” she said.

“Scotch and water do?” “Sure.”

We drank the rest of the card. She brought me luck. I hit two of the last three.

“Did you bring a car?” I asked her.

“I came with some damn fool,” she said. “Forget him.”

“If you can, I can,” I told her.

We wrapped up in the car and her tongue flicked in and out of my mouth like a tiny lost snake. We unwrapped and I drove down the coast. It was a lucky night. I got a table overlooking the ocean and we ordered drinks and waited for the steaks. Every– body in the place looked at her. I leaned forward and lit her cigarette, thinking, this one’s going to be a good one. Everybody in the place knew what I was thinking and Mary Lou knew what 1 was thinking, and I smiled at her over the flame.

“The ocean,” I said, “look at it out there, battering, crawling up and down. And underneath all that, the fish, the poor fish fighting each other, eating each other. We’re like those fish, only we’re up here. One bad move and you’re finished. It’s nice to be a champion. It’s nice to know your moves.”

I took out a cigar and lit it. “ 'nother drink, Mary Lou?”

“All right, Hank.”

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