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I had boils the size of tomatoes
all over me
they stuck a drill into me
down at the county hospital,
and
just as the sun went down
everyday
there was a man in a nearby ward
he’d start hollering for his friend Joe.
JOE! he’d holler, OH JOE! JOE! J O E!
COME GET ME, JOE!
 
Joe never came by.
I’ve never heard such mournful
sounds.
 
Joe was probably working off a
piece of ass or
attempting to solve a crossword puzzle.
 
I’ve always said
if you want to find out who your friends are
go to a madhouse or
jail.
 
and if you want to find out where love is not
be a perpetual
loser.
 
I was very lucky with my boils
being drilled and tortured
against the backdrop of the Sierra Madre mountains
while that sun went down;
when that sun went down I knew what I would do
when I finally got that drill in my hands
like I have it
now.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...



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