The Woman Dies in This One

At this point in life, I was young and had not yet murdered anyone
and I was working security at this shitty dive bar
that served burgers until three in the morning.

She was the kind of woman you wanted just because she was an actress.
She did something else for a living and she lied more than anyone I ever met,
but in a good way.

It’s a terrible thing about being a man
but when you find a woman
who goes out of her way to make you smile
even when she is torn apart by danger
and sadness and poverty and neglect,
it makes you want her even if you wouldn’t have wanted her before.

She came in and sighed heavily and slid onto a barstool.
I didn’t know much about her except her name and face
and the way she blushed when I looked too long
and the way she twisted her chapstick
and the way that her life was drawn
to a tragedy like gravity,

She drank for a couple hours and no one bothered her and she left
and when she passed by me she gave me a hug goodbye
and pushed herself against me for longer than she had to
and her hands were burning me like the touch of people always did.
At this moment I would have smelled her hair if I could smell
but instead I was stuck there feeling those familiar needles on my skin.
I stopped breathing til she left, but she did not notice or mind.
She was beautiful and kind
and a few years later her husband pulled a trigger three times.
In a different universe she has four children
and they plant apple and plum trees and love everything,
but that is not the world that will have birds and flowers this spring.

Bukowski no. 31

The only lonely nights are the ones where
my friends are asleep. Or maybe they died.
Normal desires are somewhat circumscribed
But you don’t have to be a honeybee
To eat the hive.

Bukowski no. 30

I liked the way that she looked because she was wearing glasses.
I enjoyed her face and the metaphor but I knew I was taking it too far.
I looked at lenses and saw facets of understanding,
I looked at frames and saw the construction of a view of the world.
I knew she saw me through them and so when she smiled at me
I knew that her vision had been corrected, that without the glasses
I was a blurred monstrosity to her
and just because it was true I thought she believed it
so it made me uncomfortable when she wore contacts.

I thought I had run out of olives but I found another jar deep on a shelf
and I ate a few dozen
and the ones I didn’t eat stared at me from behind the glass,
but there’s got to be more to their lives than that.

Carmen 53

I told her that I had scurvy twice.
She laughed at me and told me not to lie.
She was just a waitress, not even mine,
But she smiled at me and sure that mattered
Some of the time.

I slowly fell into the frost and rime
But the air wasn’t cold so that thought died.
She moved across the floor smooth as her jeans.
Each time her legs moved I did not feel a thing.

Maybe that’s all lies, but how could I tell
While I leered at her thighs as they moved twice?
I thought she was a lie but what is a lie
When the one that feels it is barely alive?

Her legs stretched half the way up to heaven
But I knew I had to show up to work at eleven.

Bukowski no. 29

I don’t want to boil water. I am afraid I will forget it
although you are not likely to appear at my door.
If I burn up the pan I’ll have to use the other one
and I do not like the handle on it so I just won’t boil water
and then I’ll be hungry tomorrow too.

I could have made coffee or rice but the moon was almost full
and I felt it like I was shaving with a dull knife
and anyway I never turned the burner on
so the water sat there on the stove.

I thought about nights of us doing cocaine
and the way you’d crawl right in through my bedroom window
as if you weren’t twenty two years old
and I remember all the nights you never came
and the moonlight beats upon my windowpane.

Carmen 52

Her eyes were green but not like mine,
not hopeless or hateful or steeped in disillusion,
just bloodshot ‘cause she did not sleep enough
and green for a much older reason.

I thought she could see the tears in my eyes
but she couldn’t or maybe she thought they were just part of being alive.
I thought I had tears in my eyes
but she was beautiful so she made my past pain dry.

I was so much taller and I looked down at her
like I was allowed to just ‘cause I was taller.
I try to forget about it but a wolf ain’t gonna stop tryin to swallow the moon.

I’m lucky I didn’t kiss her but I wanted to and she could see it.
I’m always joking with her and quoting Scorsese but she doesn’t know the lines
so she thinks I’m a genius and I let her think it.

Her eyes looked up at mine
and instead of kissing her eyes
I went home and cried and poured straight vodka on mine.

Her eyes looked up at mine
so tomorrow I’m gonna stare at the floor the whole time.

Carmen 51

I got so mean. I know how.

I hope I'll burn to death and I won't have to remember this.

I did not think I would get so mean but I look at a mirror and i see.

I could kill anyone for anything. The only tragic thing is that I do not.
There is no tragedy. Hamlet is dead and so am I and so are you.