the kid went back to New York City to live with a woman
he met in a kibbutz.
he left his mother at the age of
32, a well-kept fellow, sense of humor and never
wore the same pair of shorts
more than one day. there he was
in the Puerto Rican section, she had a
job. he wanted iron bars on the windows and
ate too much fried chicken at 10 a.m.
in the morning after she went to
work. he had some money saved out of the
years and he fucked but he was really
afraid of
pussy.
I was sitting with Eileen in Hollywood
and I said:
I ought to warn the kid
so that when she turns on him
he’ll be
ready.
no, she said, let him be happy.
I let him be
happy.
now he’s back living with his
mother, he weighs three hundred and ten pounds
and eats all the time
and laughs all the time
but you ought to see his
eyes...
the eyes are sitting in the center of all that
flesh...
he bites into a chicken leg:
I loved her, he says to me,
I loved her.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
