the guy in the front court can’t
speak English, he’s Greek, a
rather stupid-looking and
fairly ugly man.
now my landlord does some painting,
it’s not very good.
he showed the Greek one of his paintings.
the Greek went out and purchased
paper, brushes, paints.
the Greek started painting in his front
court. he leaves the paintings outside to
dry.
the Greek had never painted before—
here it comes:
a blue guitar
a street
a horse.
he’s good
in his mid-forties he’s
good.
he’s found a
toy.
he’s happy
now.
then I think, I wonder if he will get
very good?
and I wonder if I will have to watch
the rest?
the glory and the women and the women and
the women and the women and
the decay.
I can almost smell the bloodsuckers forming
to the left.
you see,
I have fastened to him already.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
