there’s not much to do

here.

after a day or two

i get pretty bored –

sometimes kind of lonely.

but i’m not

really alone.

i’ve got bukowski for company.

though it’s always the same

old same old

with him.

it’s easy to get tired

of reading poem after

poem about:

classical music,

and gambling at the race tracks,

and getting drunk,

and treating women like shit,

and hating yourself.

it gets to be a little much.

though it’s good to listen

to him sometimes.

it’s good to know

that if someone like him can make it

so long in this world,

well then hell – i’m doing pretty good,

right?