92 years old
his tooth has been bothering him
had to get it filled
he lost his left eye 40 years
ago
—a butcher, he says, he just wanted to
operate to get the money. I found out
later it coulda been
saved.
—I take the eye out at night, he says,
it hurts. they never did get it right.
—which eye is it, Charles?
—this one here, he points,
then excuses himself. he has to get up and
go into the
kitchen, he’s baking cookies in the oven.
he comes out soon with a
plate.
—try some.
I do. they’re
good.
—want some coffee? he asks.
—no, thanks, Charles, I haven’t been sleeping
nights.
he got married at 70 to a woman
58. 22 years ago. she’s in a rest home now.
—she’s getting better, he says, she recognizes me.
they let her get up to go to the bathroom.
—that’s fine, Charles.
—I can’t stand her damned daughter, though, they think
I’m after her money.
—is there anything I can do for you, Charles? need
anything from the store, anything like
that?
—no, I just went shopping this morning.
his back is as straight as the wall and he has
the tiniest pot
belly. as he talks he
keeps his one eye on the tv set.
—I’m going now, Charles, you got my phone number?
—yeh.
—how are the girls treating you, Charles?
—my friend, I haven’t thought about girls for some
years now.
—goodnight, Charles.—goodnight.
I go to the door
open it
close it
outside
the smell of freshly-baked cookies
follows me.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
