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To end up alone in a tomb of a room without cigarettes or wine-- just a lightbulb and a potbelly, grayhaired, and glad to have the room. ...in the morning they're out there making money: judges, carpenters, plumbers, doctors, newsboys, policemen, barbers, carwashers, dentists, florists, waitresses, cooks, cabdrivers... and you turn over to your left side to get the sun on your back and out of your eyes. from "All's Normal Here" - 1985
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Poem For My 43rd Birthday
To end up alone in a tomb of a room without cigarettes or wine-- just a lightbulb and a potbelly, grayhaired, and glad to have the room. ...in the morning they're out there making money: judges, carpenters, plumbers, doctors, newsboys, policemen, barbers, carwashers, dentists, florists, waitresses, cooks, cabdrivers... and you turn over to your left side to get the sun on your back and out of your eyes. from "All's Normal Here" - 1985
Charles Bukowski
1920 - 1994/Male/American