Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Bukowski no. 36

I got this tremendous vase or statue
For a good price.
Hell if I know what it is made out of
But it is heavy.

It is different to the vanity of being alive.
I paid for this,
I think.
Anyway off in the hallway a woman steps upon linoleum
Or maybe it is carpet. I am not there. Where I am
The rum never runs out and I work for no one
But one man,
And he is a generous master
And I always pay my landlord and anyone else who needs money
Because my master pays me on time.
Though I rely on someone else to live and though I am not a man
She asks if I am happy and I tell her yes.

Autobiography no. 18

-Won’t you have pity sir? You know you are not Virgil. -Quiet, woman. The world does not need your voice upon it. I bought several books from what is called a salvage store, but what is in fact a store for the poor to find things like saucepans and bluejeans and mason jars and old televisions and books about wizards and books by Charles Goddamn Dickens. The Holy Bible is free.