‘in this city now—‘


wives’ heads are
battered
against kitchen
walls
by unemployed
butchers.

pimps
send out their
dreary and doped
battalions
of tired
girls.

upstairs a man
pikes
his entire stomach
into a
wastebasket.

we all drink
too much
cheap wine

search for
cigarettes

look at our
mates
across
tabletops

and wonder why
they became
ugly
so soon.

we turn our
TV’s on
searching for
baseball games
soaps
and
cop
shows

but it’s only
the sound
we want

some minor
distraction.

nobody cares
about
endings

we know the
end.

some of us
weaken

some of us
become
sniffers of
Christ.

some don’t.

to know anything is
to score
and to score
is
necessary

that’s
baseball

and that’s all

the rest
of it
too.
-Charles Bukowski

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