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the most

here comes the fishhead singing
here comes the baked potato in drag
 
here comes nothing to do all day long
here comes another night of no sleep
 
here comes the phone wringing the wrong tone
 
here comes a termite with a banjo
here comes a flagpole with blank eyes
here comes a a cat and a dog wearing nylons
 
here comes a machine gun saying
here comes bacon burning in the pan
here comes a voice saying something dull
 
here comes a newspaper stuffed with small red birds
with flat brown beaks
 
here comes a cunt carrying a torch
a grenade
a deathly love
 
here comes a victory carrying
one bucket of blood
and stumbling over the berry bush
 
 
and the sheets hang out the windows
 
and the bombers head east west north south
 
get lost
get tossed like salad
 
as all the fish in the sea line up and form
one line
one long line
one very long thin line
the longest line you could ever imagine
 
and we get lost
walking past purple mountains
 
we walk lost
bare at last like the knife
 
having given
having spit it out like an unexpected olive seed
 
as the girl at the call service
screams over the phone:
“don’t call back! you sound like a jerk!”
Otras obras de Charles Bukowski...



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