bukowski guy
the bukowski guy is walking around
the strand bookstore
i have to get more of that bukowski guy
he keeps telling his woman
the bukowski guy is holding a copy of factotum
and his woman has a stack of cookbooks
she looks like she couldn’t care less about that bukowski
guy
but he keeps going on about him with such verve
that it’s contagious
and i am bored with the stacks at the strand
as i usually am
because i’ve read all of that bukowski guy
amongst many others just like him
it feels like there’s nothing left to read
so i watch the bukowski guy for a while
watch him walk around the store
picking bukowski books off of the display tables
this bukowski guy in his little tweed coat and scarf
his tight burgundy pants and pointy shoes
gelled hair looking like it was sculpted by the kind folks
at le douche bag
i don’t think he looks like a bukowski guy
this bukowski guy has soft hands
and has probably never done manual labor
doesn’t get drunk on monday because
there’s nothing else to do
he looks more like he should be reading tao lin
instead of that bukowski guy
i’m being judgmental, i know
but i get pissy
when i can’t find anything in the strand
eighteen miles of books
only i almost always go home empty handed
and honestly
i couldn’t tell you the type of people who read tao lin
much less that bukowski guy these days
i mean i’ve read tao lin
so, you know….
but i’m always the lonely consumer at bookstores
money to burn on payday
that i ultimately spend on bills and cheap wine
i feel used up and old
like all those literary gods have sailed on by
and i’m more excited by cold cuts at the grocery store
think maybe i’m jealous of this bukowski guy
and his jumping from table to table with the same honest
exuberance
that i used to have
grabbing women and post office
some ham on rye
love is a dog from hell
and a bunch of other books
that i’ve ingested like a fine meal
prepping his own journey
into the world of booze, bitches, and crystal madness
all written
by that bukowski guy
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