Loading...

Mama

here I am
in the ground
my mouth
open
and
I can’t even say
mama,
and
the dogs run by and stop and piss
on my stone; I get it all
except the sun
and my suit is looking
bad
and yesterday
the last of my left
arm gone
very little left, all harp—like
without music.
 
at least a drunk
in bed with a cigarette
might cause 5 fire
engines and
33 men.
 
I can’t
do
any
thing.
 
but p.s. —Hector Richmond in the next
tomb thinks only of Mozart and candy
caterpillars.
he is
very bad
company.
Liked or faved by...
Other works by Charles Bukowski...



Top