Big Night On The Town

Big Night On The Town

by Charles Bukowski

drunk on the dark streets of some city,
it’s night, you’re lost, where’s your
you enter a bar to find yourself,
order scotch and water.
damned bar’s sloppy wet, it soaks
part of one of your shirt
It’s a clip joint—the scotch is weak.
you order a bottle of beer.
Madame Death walks up to you
wearing a dress.
she sits down, you buy her a
beer, she stinks of swamps, presses
a leg against you.
the bar tender sneers.
you’ve got him worried, he doesn’t
know if you’re a cop, a killer, a
madman or an
you ask for a vodka.
you pour the vodka into the top of
the beer bottle.
It’s one a.m. In a dead cow world.
you ask her how much for head,
drink everything down, it tastes
like machine oil.

you leave Madame Death there,
you leave the sneering bartender

you have remembered where
your room is.
the room with the full bottle of
wine on the dresser.
the room with the dance of the
Perfection in the Star Turd
where love died

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Other poems by Charles Bukowski (read randomly)

the phone rang at 1:30 a.m.
and it was a man from Denver:
“Chinaski, you got a following in

I even hear the mountains
the way they laugh
up and down their blue sides

she reads to me from the New Yorker
which I don’t buy, don’t know
how they get in here, but it’s

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to

shot in the eye
shot in the brain
shot in the ass

I met a genius on the train
about 6 years old,

you may not believe it
but there are people
who go through life with

To give life you must take life,
and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion—blooded sea

during my worst times
on the park benches
in the jails

there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades

too much too little
too fat
too thin

drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end of my 2nd bottle
of wine, I have typed from a dozen to 15 pages of

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