Come on In! - Charles Bukowski [16]
“don’t be,” I said, “just pass the salt and
pepper.”
endless love
I’ve seen old married couples
sitting in their rockers
across from one another
being congratulated
for staying together 60 or 70
years,
either of whom
would
long ago have
settled for something
else, anything else,
but fate
fear and
circumstances have
bound them
eternally together;
and as we tell them
how wonderful
their great and enduring love
is
only they
really know
the truth
but they don’t tell us
that from the first day they
met
somehow
it didn’t mean
all that much:
like
waiting for death
now
it was just an endless determination to
endure.
down and out on the boardwalk
she lived in Venice
on some 2nd floor
and I’d knock and she’d
let me in
and there was no bed
just a mat on the floor
and candles
everywhere
there was even a
piano
and there was also a
guitar
and while we sipped
white wine
she’d sit on the
floor
and play the
guitar
and sing songs
her own lyrics
godawful stuff
about the
soul
and I’d go to the
window
and look out and
say
“nice view but let’s
work out.”
“work out?”
she’d ask. “what
do you mean?”
“I mean
I’ll suck your tits
and stuff.”
“I want you to hear
this new
song.”
she’d start right
in.
she had an awful
voice but
nice long
hair.
I’d get playful
and hammer on the
piano
just so I wouldn’t
have to listen
to
her.
I was in a bad
way: in between
real women
and just
doing time
with
her.
one night I
asked her,
“listen, how do you
make it?”
“make it?”
“I mean
how do you pay the
rent, all
that?”
“oh, I’m a marriage
counselor.”
“really?”
“yes.”
“you been married?”
“3 times.”
I finally stopped going
to her
place
but somehow
she found out where
I lived
and then came
to see
me.
she said we couldn’t have
sex
because she was going to
be married again
and didn’t want to be
untrue
to him.
she described
her boyfriend
in detail
to me
then took out her
guitar
and started
singing.
later that night
I sodomized her
and told her
not to
come
around any
more.
I got lucky:
she
didn’t.
soon after that
I met a plump
Jewish girl
who promised
she’d
save me from
myself.
I thought
that would be
a very good
idea.
sex sister
there were 4 of them between the ages of 30 and 45 and
all they talked about was men and sex, I mean,
it was all-consuming, to them there wasn’t anything
else.
I was living with the youngest sister and she had me
performing sexual acts I had never even heard of
before.
“now, let’s try this.”
“all right.”
at first it was lively, adventurous, even
humorous
but
as the months passed and the nights added up I
began to resent it, like—oh, here we go with SEX
again!
(she also liked to do it in strange places like public
parks or in automobiles while I was driving.)
I began to feel that all the sisters were crazy; in fact,
one of them had been in a madhouse (the one I was with).
the sisters had boisterous, screeching laughs, really
rather ugly laughs
and I began drinking more so I could tolerate
them and their laughter.
the drinking made the sister I was with quite angry
because sometimes I would just go to sleep
instead of performing.
I finally told my lady that I couldn’t take it anymore
and that it was over and she seemed to accept that at first
but finally it was not to be so:
she began to phone me continually, mostly at night,
around 3 or 4 a.m.: “YOU’VE GOT SOMEBODY THERE,
HAVEN’T YOU?”
she followed me everywhere. once I took some clothes in
to the cleaners and when I came out my car was nearly
destroyed—ripped upholstery, shattered windows, torn
dashboard, all within 3 or 4 minutes.
it looked as if a tiger had been in the car.
another time I was making love to another lady when my
bedroom window was
smashed open and there was the sister’s face, twisted, spitting
at me, “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” then she was
gone.
the lady in bed was terrified, trembling. “what was
that?”
“nothing, baby, nothing.”
the sex sister