places to hunt
places to hide are
getting harder to find, and pet
canaries and goldfish too, did you notice
that?
remember when pool halls were pool halls
not just tables in
bars;
and I remember when neighborhood women
used to cook pots of beef stew for their
unemployed husbands
when their bellies were sick with
fear;
and I remember when kids used to watch the rain
for hours and
would fight to the end over a pet
rat; and
remember when the boxers were all Jewish and Irish
and never gave you a
bad fight; and when the biplanes flew so low you
could see the pi lot’s face and goggles;
and when one ice cream bar in ten had a free coupon inside;
and when for 3 cents you could buy enough candy
to make you sick
or last a whole
afternoon; and when the people in the neighborhood raised
chickens in their backyards; and when we’d stuff a 5-cent
toy auto full of
candle wax to make it last
forever; and when we built our own kites and scooters;
and I remember
when our parents fought
you could hear them for blocks)
and they fought for hours, screaming blood-death curses
and the cops never
came.
places to hunt and places to hide,
they’re just not around
anymore. I remember when
each 4th lot was vacant and overgrown, and the landlord
only got his rent
when you had
it, and each day was clear and good and each moment was
full of promise.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
