Resting beside two bottles of expensive
Riesling on Charles Bukowski’s desk
And Chuck stumbles in clearly wasted,
Stretches his arms and cracks his knuckles
And screams like a lunatic and then hollers,
Time to get some fuckin’ work done, boys!
He grabs me like one of his favorite call girls
And splashes half my contents on his cratered face
To which I then shout at him,
BASTARD, NO WONDER YOU’RE ALWAYS
A MESS, YOUR MOUTH ONLY ACCEPTS
THE HARD STUFF!
Chuck looks at me with these wild raccoon eyes,
Moonshine tycoon eyes, then he says,
Well I’ll be Jean-Luc Godard-damned, that’s
The smartest fuckin’ thing anyone’s ever told me!
We both laugh so long and so hard that our
Abdominals cramp and all that’s left between us
Is an eerily comfortable hush.
Alex Z. Salinas lives in San Antonio, Texas. His poetry has appeared in the San Antonio Express-News and in the San Antonio Review, where he serves as poetry editor.
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