Friday, August 28, 2009

"in a lady's bedroom" -bukowski

trying to write a poem

in a lady's bedroom

(onions on my breath)

while she cuts a dress out of freshly bought material.

I suppose, as material

I'm not so fresh,

especially with onions

on my breath.

Well, let's see -

there's a lady in Echo Park,

one in Pasedena, one in Sacramento, on on Harvard Ave.

perhaps one of them would be more interested

in me

than in a dress ( for a while, anyhow).

meanwhile I sit in this lady's bedroom

by a hot window

while she sits at her

sewing machine.

here, she said, here's a

paper and pen,

write something.

all right, Ill be kind:

some ladies fuck like mink

and dance like nymphs

and some create

nice dresses and lonely poets

on hot July afternoons .

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