fear
he walks up to my Volks
after I have parked
and rocks it back and
forth
grinning around his
cigar.
“hey, Hank, I notice
all the women around your
place lately... good looking
stuff; you’re doing all
right.”
“Sam,” I say, “that’s not
true; I am one of God’s most
lonely men.”
“we got some nice girls at
the parlor, you oughta try
some of them.”
“I’m afraid of those places,
Sam, I can’t walk into them.”
“I’ll send you a girl then,
real nice stuff.”
“Sam, don’t send me a whore,
I always fall in love with
whores.”
“o.k., friend,” he says,
“let me know if you change
your mind.”
I watch him walk away.
some men are always on
top of their game.
I am mostly always
confused.
he can break a man
in half
and doesn’t know who
Mozart is.
who wants to listen
to music
anyhow
on a rainy Wednesday
night?
Altre opere di Charles Bukowski...
