| charles bukowski  [+ favourites]
CB is my favorite poet. i opened up to a random page in one of his books and want to share some of his work with you guys. maybe youll like it too.
Sunday lunch at the Holy Mission
he got knifed in broad daylight
came up the street holding his hands over his gut
dripping red on the pavement.
nobody waiting in line left their place to help him.
he made it to the Mission doorway
collapsed in the lobby where the desk clerk screamed
" hey you son of a bitch, what are you doing? "
then he called an ambulance
but the man was dead when they got there.
the police came and circled the spots of blood on the pavement
with white chalk
photographed everything
then asked the men waiting for their Sunday meal
if they had seen anything
if they had heard anything
they all said ' no ' to both.
while the police strutted in their uniforms
the others finally loaded the body into an ambulance.
afterwards the homeless men rolled cigarettes
as they waited for their meal
talking about the action
blowing farts and smoke
enjoying the sun
feeling quite like celebrities
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so good! a lot of hidden meanings in these easy words ; )
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