I read Bukowski…

I read bukowski when I mingle with the smokers

It’s only fitting to 
me.
Read his poetry 
Thinking thoughts I shouldn’t 
Not at work
But the smokers understand
Puffing away their lives
Relaxing in the painful erotic
of each inhale
I inhale
Think
Upon
My last drink
And the degenerate face of love
The sex the sweat the fluids 
And I feel my cock begin
To get hard
“Do you understand Bokowski’s words,” I ask the smokers
They look at me funny
And I get funny responses
“Who?”
“Is he someone here?”
“He’s a philosophy guy! Just like Plato.”
I laugh
Loud and hard
Because they think I’m ignorant
Because I don’t know how to collect
A bill
I laugh
Long and hard 
Because I never wanted to collect bills
I always wanted to live
Poor 
With tales of women
And stupidity
And drink
More and more and more drink
I understand Bukowski
His words his icon his wisdom
Fuck the smokers
And their slow
Deaths

 

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6 Comments

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6 responses to “I read Bukowski…

  1. Bukowski, the other Hemingway.

  2. Oh! That is outspoken and I definitely liked it.

  3. He is outstanding, great expression here.

  4. Everybody knows my love for him. The rough no-bullshit attitude.
    You resemble that bravery in your poetry.

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