well, first Mae West died
and then George Raft,
and Eddie G. Robinson’s
been gone
long time,
and Bogart and Gable
and Grable,
and Laurel and
Hardy
and the Marx Brothers,
all those Saturday
afternoons
at the movies
as a boy
are gone now
and I look
around this room
and it looks back at me
and then out through
the window.
time hangs helpless
from the doorknob
as a gold
paperweight
of an owl
looks up at me
an old man now)
who must sit and endure
these many empty
Saturday
afternoons.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
