sit on this bench and look
at the sea and the freaks and the
lovers.
need new eyes a new mouth new
pillows, a new woman.
every old stud with half an eye in
his head loves to charm and ride
new young calf.
when I think of womenless men mowing their
Saturday lawns and playing football,
baseball, basketball with their sons
feel like vomiting into the far
horizon.
the family stinks of Christ
and the American Stock Exchange.
the family stinks of safety and
numbness and Thanksgiving turkeys.
the family stinks of airless packed
automobiles driving through
redwood forests.
need new eyes a new woman new
ankles a new voice new betrayals.
don’t want a long funeral
pro cession when I die.
want to move on without weight
or obligation.
want just the sullen darkness I want
tomb like this night now:
me here undiluted—
solid, cranky, immaculate.
hold fast to me. that’s all there
is.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
