Fires. Essays, Poems, Stories

hard stuff man
    I get mean then
    I could sit here and drink beer
    with you hippies all night
    I could drink ten quarts of this beer
    and nothing it's like water
    But let me get onto the hard stuff
    and 111 start throwing people out windows
    111 throw anybody out the window
    I've done it
    But you don't know what love is
    You don't know because you've never
    been in love it's that simple
    I got this young broad see she's beautiful
    She calls me Bukowski
    Bukowski she says in this little voice
    and I say What
    But you don't know what love is
    I'm telling you what it is
    but you aren't listening
    There isn't one of you in this room
    would recognize love if it stepped up
    and buggered you in the ass
    I used to think poetry readings were a copout
    Look I'm 51 years old and I've been around
    I know they're a copout
    but I said to myself Bukowski
    starving is even more of a copout
    So there you are and nothing is like it should be
    That fellow what's his name Galway Kinnell
    I saw his picture in a magazine
    He has a handsome mug on him
    but he's a teacher
    Christ can you imagine
    But then you're teachers too
    here I am insulting you already
    No I haven't heard of him
    or him either
    They're all termites
    Maybe it's ego I don't read much anymore
    but these people who build
    reputations on five or six books
    termites
    Bukowski she says
    Why do you listen to classical music all day
    Can't you hear her saying that
    Bukowski why do you listen to classical music all day
    That surprises you doesn't it
    You wouldn't think a crude bastard like me
    could listen to classical music all day
    Brahms Rachmaninoff Bartok Telemann
    Shit I couldn't write up here
    Too quiet up here too many trees
    I like the city that's the place for me
    I put on my classical music each morning
    and sit down in front of my typewriter
    I light a cigar and I smoke it like this see
    and I say Bukowski you're a lucky man
    Bukowski you've gone through it all
    and you're a lucky man
    and the blue smoke drifts across the table
    and I look out the window onto Delongpre Avenue
    and I see people walking up and down the sidewalk
    and I puff on the cigar like this
    and then I lay the cigar in the ashtray like this
    and take a deep breath
    and I begin to write
    Bukowski this is the life I say
    it's good to be poor it's good to have hemorrhoids
    it's good to be in love
    But you don't know what it's like
    You don't know what it's like to be in love
    If you could see her you'd know what I mean
    She thought I'd come up here and get laid
    She just knew it
    She told me she knew it
    Shit I'm 51 years old and she's 25
    and we're in love and she's jealous
    Jesus it's beautiful
    she said she'd claw my eyes out if I came up here and
    got laid Now that's love for you What do any of you know about it Let me tell you something I've met men in jail who had more style than the people who hang around colleges
    and go to poetry readings
    They're bloodsuckers who come to see
    if the poet's socks are dirty
    or if he smells under the arms
    Believe me I won't disappoint em
    But I want you to remember this
    there's only one poet in this room tonight
    only one poet in this town tonight
    maybe only one real poet in this country tonight
    and that's me
    What do any of you know about life
    What do any o^ you know about anything
    Which of you here has been fired from a job
    or else has beaten up your broad
    or else has been beaten up by your broad
    I was fired from Sears and Roebuck five times
    They'd fire me then hire me back again
    I was a stockboy for them when I was 35
    and then got canned for stealing cookies
    I know what's it like I've been there
    I'm 51 years old now and I'm in love
    This little broad she says
    Bukowski
    and I say What and she says
    I think you're full of shit
    and I say baby you understand me
    She's the only broad in the world
    man or woman
    I'd take that from
    But you don't know what love is
    They all came back to me in the end too
    every one of em came back
    except that one I told you about
    the one I planted
    We were together seven years
    We used to drink a lot
    I see a couple of typers in this room but
    I don't see any poets
    I'm not surprised
    You have to have been in love to write poetry
    and you don't know what it is to be in love
    that's your trouble
    Give me some of that stuff
    That's right no ice good
    That's good that's just fine
    So let's get this show on the road
    I know what I said but I'll have just one
    That tastes good
    Okay then let's go let's get this over