Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Bukowski Starter Kit

(by Charles Bukowski)


flamingo pain,
burnt fingers trying to
light the last of this
in a place described
by terrified ladies
with money in their purses
as a “rat hole.”

“you can spit on the floor here,”
I tell them.

but no, from
a safe
distance, it appears
they’d rather discuss my poetry.

one thousand dollars

all of my knowledge about horse racing
told me that this was a sure bet.
I bet one thousand to win.
the horse had post one
at 6 furlongs.

the bell rang and they came
out of the gate.

my horse turned left
ran through the fence
fell down and
right there
at 7/5.

when I tell people this story
they don't say

sometimes there's nothing to say

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