longshot
she’s not for you, man,
she’s not your type,
she’s erased
she’s been used
she’s got all the wrong
habits,
he told me
in between races.
I’m going to bet the 4
horse, I told him.
well, it’s only that I’d
like to turn her around
in mid-stream,
save her, you might say.
you can’t save her, he said,
you’re 55, you need kindness.
I’m going to bet the 6 horse.
you’re not the one to save
her.
who can save her? I asked.
I don’t think the 6 has a
chance, I like the 4.
she needs somebody to beat her
from wall to wall, he said,
kick her ass, she’d love
it. She’d stay home and
wash the dishes.
the 6 horse will be in
the running.
I’m no good at beating women,
I said.
forget her then, he said.
it’s hard to, I said.
he got up and bet the 6
and I got up and bet the 4.
the 5 horse won
by 3 lengths
at 15 to one.
she’s got red hair
like lightning from heaven,
I said.
forget her, he said.
we tore up our tickets
and stared at the lake
in the center of the track.
it was going to be
a long afternoon
for both of us.
Autres oeuvres par Charles Bukowski...
