A little life in the Big Easy

I’ve loved Bukowski since I first stumbled across his work in high school, and I suspect I’ll love him until the day I die. While enjoying two delicious Lazy Magnolia “Indian Summer” beers late yesterday afternoon, I read from Mockingbird Wish Me Luck. It was published in 1972. Again and again, I smiled and laughed and marveled at his ability to so easily and convincingly express himself without worrying about prettying things up. Always raw, always real. Always for me.

Here’s one I especially like:

ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha

monkey feet
small and blue
walking toward you
as the back of a building falls off
and an airplane chews the white sky,
doom is like the handle of a pot,
it’s there,
know it,
have ice in your tea,
marry,
have children, visit your
dentist,
do not scream at night
even if you feel like screaming,
count ten
make love to your wife,
or if your wife isn’t there
if there isn’t anybody there
count 20,
get up and walk to the kitchen
if you have a kitchen
and sit there sweating
at 3 a.m. in the morning
monkey feet
small and blue
walking toward you.