what you see is what you see:
madhouses are rarely
on display.
that we still walk about and
scratch ourselves and light
cigarettes
is more the miracle
than bathing beauties
than roses and the moth.
to sit in a small room
and drink a can of beer
and roll a cigarette
while listening to Brahms
on a small red radio
is to have come back
from a dozen wars
alive
listening to the sound
of the refrigerator
as bathing beauties rot
and the oranges and apples
roll away.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
