An Afternoon With Charles Bukowski

Dive right in

To beer and bullshit

And whatever else we stumble into

Horses, women …

Odd choices for paintings

Loitering on the walls

Of this no name bar

Bartender older than the wood holding up the bar

We could write

Or just drink

Maybe a bit of both

Get a napkin involved

Borrow a pen from the old bartender

Maybe drag out a dollar for the jukebox

Let someone else write this one

With their voice

Lines and captured emotions

Bottled up then flattened into vinyl

I know that feeling

I’m sure you know too Chuck

You drink that beer like you know

Door opens, light and lady enter

She sits across and left of us

Sunglasses still on

Fiddling in her purse

Lips hanging below her nose

Like lily pads for soon to be princes

Begging for a kiss

She’s remiss

Of us

But we are well aware

Of her

She’s the only other being in the place

Besides the drunk in the corner

And “Old Ironsides” behind the bar

Her perfume finds its way into our beer

We sip with subtle satisfaction

Today is a little things kind of day

I motion for two more

And slide over a napkin

Chuck takes the pen and a sip

I watch like a whisper

As hell breaks loose on paper

I swear I see the genesis of a smile

Pushed back by the rim of the glass

And the beautiful beer