poem of the day 06.26.15

the unluckiest man on the face of the earth

i’ve never bet one cent on sports

never played a slot machine

or rolled dice in vegas

i don’t like poker or gin

i wrote poems at the dog races

and drunkenly threatened to call the ASPCA

many editors have called me bukowski light

but the horse races can have themselves

when someone says, i’ll bet you

i usually balk, even if i know i’m right

my wife wants to bet me all of the time

but we share a bank account

so it makes no goddamned sense

i was in atlantic city once years ago

but i spent the weekend crushing ritalin pills

putting the powder up my nose

and getting drunk on vodka and beer

when i wasn’t in the strip clubs

there was a documentary on donald trump

that played continuously

i’m willing to bet no one watched it more than once but me

i tend to eat the same foods

and get drunk on the same shit night after night

i don’t even take any chances on people

i haven’t made a new friend in years

and the ones i have

i could lay some money down

on what their reactions would be

but whenever the people in my office

collect money for the lottery

i usually chip in a buck

not for the thrill of chance

but out of fear that they’ll win one day

when i don’t play

and that the next morning

i’ll wake up with the realization

that they’re all millionaires now

free of the stigma of having to work a job

and that i’ll have to go into work alone

die there in my seat until i’m sixty-five

end up on the front cover of the new york post

with a big headline in bold letters calling me

the unluckiest man on the face of the earth.