human nature
has been going on for some time.
there is this young waitress where I get my coffee
at the racetrack.
how are you doing today?” she asks.
winning pretty good,” I reply.
you won yesterday, didn’t you?” she
asks.
yes,” I say, “and the day before.”
don’t know exactly what it is but I
believe we must have incompatible
personalities. there is often a hostile
undertone to our conversations.
you seem to be the only person
around here who keeps winning,”
she says, not looking at me,
not pleased.
is that so?” I answer.
there is something very strange about all
this: whenever I do lose
she never seems to be
there.
perhaps it’s her day off or sometimes she works
another counter?
she bets too and loses.
she always loses.
and even though we might have
incompatible personalities I am sorry for
her.
decide the next time I see her
will tell her that I am
losing.
so I do.
when she asks, “how are you doing?”
say, “god, I don’t understand it,
I’m losing, I can’t hit anything, every horse
bet runs last!”
really?” she asks.
really,” I say.
works.
she lowers her gaze
and here comes one of the largest smiles
have ever seen, it damn near cracks
her face wide open.
get my coffee, tip her well, walk
out to check the
toteboard.
I died in a flaming crash on the freeway
she’d surely be happy for a
week!
take a sip of coffee.
what’s this?
she’s put in a large shot of cream!
she knows I like it black!
in her excitement,
she’d forgotten.
the bitch.
and that’s what I get for lying.
Autres oeuvres par Charles Bukowski...
