Bukowski
Posted: Thu Jan 01, 2015 10:55 pm
The Shoelace
a woman,
a tire that’s flat,
a disease,
a desire:
fears in front of you,
fears that hold so still
you can study them
like pieces on a chessboard…
it’s not the large things that send a man to the madhouse.
death he’s ready for,
or murder, incest, robbery, fire, flood…
no, it’s the continuing series of small tragedies
that send a man to the madhouse…
not the death of his love
but a shoelace that snaps
with no time left …
The dread of life
is that swarm of trivialities
that can kill quicker than cancer
and which are always there -
license plates or taxes
or expired driver’s license,
or hiring or firing,
doing it or having it done to you,
or roaches or flies
or a broken hook on a screen,
or out of gas
or too much gas,
the sink’s stopped-up, the landlord’s drunk,
the president doesn’t care and the governor’s crazy.
light switch broken, mattress like a porcupine;
$105 for a tune-up,
carburetor and fuel pump at sears roebuck
and the phone bill’s up and the market’s down
and the toilet chain is broken,
and the light has burned out -
the hall light, the front light, the back light,
the inner light; it’s darker than hell
and twice as expensive.
then there’s always crabs and ingrown toenails
and people who insist they’re your friends;
there’s always that and worse;
leaky faucet, christ and christmas;
blue salami, 9 day rains,
50 cent avocados
and purple liverwurst.
or making it
as a waitress at norm’s on the split shift,
or as an emptier of bedpans,
or as a carwash or a busboy
or a stealer of old lady’s purses
leaving them screaming on the sidewalks
with broken arms at the age of 80.
suddenly
2 red lights in your rear view mirror
and blood in your underwear;
toothache, and $979 for a bridge
$300 for a gold tooth,
and china and russia and america, and
long hair and short hair and no hair,
and beards and no faces,
and plenty of zigzag but no pot,
except maybe one to piss in
and the other one around your gut.
with each broken shoelace
out of one hundred broken shoelaces,
one man, one woman, one thing
enters a madhouse.
so be careful
when you bend over.
a woman,
a tire that’s flat,
a disease,
a desire:
fears in front of you,
fears that hold so still
you can study them
like pieces on a chessboard…
it’s not the large things that send a man to the madhouse.
death he’s ready for,
or murder, incest, robbery, fire, flood…
no, it’s the continuing series of small tragedies
that send a man to the madhouse…
not the death of his love
but a shoelace that snaps
with no time left …
The dread of life
is that swarm of trivialities
that can kill quicker than cancer
and which are always there -
license plates or taxes
or expired driver’s license,
or hiring or firing,
doing it or having it done to you,
or roaches or flies
or a broken hook on a screen,
or out of gas
or too much gas,
the sink’s stopped-up, the landlord’s drunk,
the president doesn’t care and the governor’s crazy.
light switch broken, mattress like a porcupine;
$105 for a tune-up,
carburetor and fuel pump at sears roebuck
and the phone bill’s up and the market’s down
and the toilet chain is broken,
and the light has burned out -
the hall light, the front light, the back light,
the inner light; it’s darker than hell
and twice as expensive.
then there’s always crabs and ingrown toenails
and people who insist they’re your friends;
there’s always that and worse;
leaky faucet, christ and christmas;
blue salami, 9 day rains,
50 cent avocados
and purple liverwurst.
or making it
as a waitress at norm’s on the split shift,
or as an emptier of bedpans,
or as a carwash or a busboy
or a stealer of old lady’s purses
leaving them screaming on the sidewalks
with broken arms at the age of 80.
suddenly
2 red lights in your rear view mirror
and blood in your underwear;
toothache, and $979 for a bridge
$300 for a gold tooth,
and china and russia and america, and
long hair and short hair and no hair,
and beards and no faces,
and plenty of zigzag but no pot,
except maybe one to piss in
and the other one around your gut.
with each broken shoelace
out of one hundred broken shoelaces,
one man, one woman, one thing
enters a madhouse.
so be careful
when you bend over.