bukowski on the bus

on the metro

to van buren,

i ‘m reading bukowski.

he is that good,

after i start

i can’t  put him down.

i had to piss,

i got a hardon.

the blond across the isle,

looked at my book,

looked at my hardon,

and stared at me,

until i looked

at him.

i turned the page

and kept reading,

‘under the suckerfish sun.’

he returned

to my hardon.

the nannie got off

at rose lane.

i got off by camelback.

he stood up,

said, “see ya tomorrow.”

i watched him

walking west,

on indian school.

i slept,

on the bus,

back to zia’s’

to find more bukowski,

i ride the bus,

to van buren,

every monday,


and thursday.


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