poem of the day 05.27.09

reading bukowski

then i was on the train
reading hank’s selected,
thinking about a shot of
scotch in the morning tea,
the beatles,
proust,
and what to do about
my neighbor’s loud television
when she said

“bukowski’s great, isn’t he?”
“yes,” i answered.

“i saw a play about him once,
and a movie.”
“that’s nice,” i answered.

“his poems are so real,
so true,” she said.
“yes.”

“bukowski’s poetry has
saved my life,” she said.
“that’s nice,” i answered.

then she got off the train,
feeling good about herself,
and i went back to reading
hank’s selected,
thinking about a shot of scotch
in the morning tea,
the beatles,
proust,
what to do about my neighbor’s
loud television,
how i should start taking a different train
to work in the morning,
and how if she really loved bukowski
she would’ve left me alone
in the first place.

12.11.07