Back to the machine gun – Chuck Bukowski

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charles-bukowski

And you think you had a bad night. Ah Charles! I love you man! Not Dead Yet! Photo courtesy of Charles’s daughter. Keeper of the flame.

 

Some days just have to start at noon…

back to the machine gun

I awaken about noon and go out to get the mail
in my old torn bathrobe.
I’m hung over
hair down in my eyes
barefoot
gingerly walking on the small sharp rocks
in my path
still afraid of pain behind my four-day beard.

the young housewife next door shakes a rug
out of her window and sees me:
“hello, Hank!”

god damn! it’s almost like being shot in the ass
with a .22

“hello,” I say
gathering up my Visa card bill, my Pennysaver coupons,
a Dept. of Water and Power past-due notice,
a letter from the mortgage people
plus a demand from the Weed Abatement Department
giving me 30 days to clean up my act.

I mince back again over the small sharp rocks
thinking, maybe I’d better write something tonight,
they all seem
to be closing in.

there’s only one way to handle those motherfuckers.

the night harness races will have to wait.

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Bukowski indulging his fans. Yes we have grown bored with your questions! How's this motherfucker?

Bukowski indulging his fans. Yes we have grown bored with your questions! How’s this motherfucker?

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