for jerry bolton and karla dorman. i thought you might like this. if not, sorry...

 

 

 

the sun was shining
like a swollen ladybug
on a blue eyed daisy
beautiful
beautiful
even with
the hammer behind my eyes
reacting to
the dustings
of fresh buds
on old trees

it was going to be
a pretty good day
a great day

i went to border's
to find a book
i didn't know what
but i knew it wouldn't be
anything by bukowski
because i need to find
someone else to rip off

browsing aisles after
mundane aisles
angelou
no
cummings
no
frost
no
plath
hell no

here we go
'paterson' and
'a season in hell'
both of which i'd read
but needed new copies of
being chewed on
for years
at three in the morning
on very stoned couches

two employees were
stocking shelves
one
a hairy legged girl
with pretentious eyewear
"where do we put
the carroll?"
"just move the bukowski
up higher,"
said the skinny scruffy
whiteboy
wearing sandals for no good reason
"you ever read his stuff?"
she asked
"of course not,"
he scoffed
surprised she even asked
"i don't know he ever
got published"

"yeah," she droned
through her nose
"it's not like he was
walt whitman
or even jack keroac
now those guys
were something
real literary giants"

i decided then to buy
'paterson' and
steal 'a season in hell'

"excuse me," i asked
"one of you working the register?"
the skinny whiteboy
jumped to his feet
directing me swiftly to the register

"so you like poetry?" he asked

i said no

"ah
william carlos williams
one of the most important writers
of our age
this is a good book
great choice"

"yeah
he's okay," i said
"i would've bought
something by bukowski
but i think i've read them all
and besides
i need something lesser
to compare him against"

the skinny boy got quiet
and murmured something about
bukowski being cool too

"by the way,"
i added
"why don't you take
that hairy legged
psuedo dyke in the
back room and f*** her sloppy
so that the next time i
shop here
the two of you
can have something
important and literary
to talk about
can you do that for a brother?"

i don't know why
i said it
or how i thought he'd react
all i know
is that his acne looked like
it was ready
to puke all over the register
as he turned baboon ass red
i smiled and wished him
a good day

the sun danced across
my eyes
i squinted in simple joy
for warmth and light
and other
important things
and i drove home
feeling that nothing
could ever go wrong

it was a good day
in fact
it was a pretty great day