SURE I’LL SHARE YOUR UGLY DUCKLING ALCOHOL

don’t worry about rejections, pard,
I’ve been rejected
before.

sometimes you make a mistake, taking
the wrong poem
more often I make the mistake, writing
it.

but I like a mount in every race
even though the man
who puts up the morning line

tabs it 30 to one.

I get to thinking about death more and
more

senility

crutches

armchairs

writing purple poetry with a
dripping pen

when the young girls with mouths
like barracudas
bodies like lemon trees
bodies like clouds
bodies like flashes of lightning
stop knocking on my door

don’t worry about rejections, pard.

I have smoked 25 cigarettes tonight
and you know about the beer.

the phone has only rung one:
wrong number.

-Charles Bukowski; –For Al, from Love Is A Dog From Hell

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