Reading Bukowski

Another hour
reading Bukowski,
I think
I’m still sane,
I am strung out,
wrung
out and in denial;
with effort

I can smile
at the boy genius
he met on the train going
down the Coast.

Nope,
it’s not pretty,
for sure,
and were I deflated
by the same perfunctory
ocean I’d never
noticed before
I guess
I’d think like that too.

He was trapped
in a child’s word picture
that shrank

him

from

view
© I.D. Carswell

http://www.levity.com/corduroy/bukowski.htm