Love Is a Dog From Hell_ Poems, 1974-1977 - Charles Bukowski [22]
and opened the portfolio
along the side of the wall.
we were drinking.
she said, “you promised me these
paintings once, don’t you
remember?”
“what? no, no, I don’t remember.”
“well, you did,” she said, “and you
ought to keep your promises.”
“leave those fucking paintings alone,”
I said.
then I walked into the kitchen for
a beer. I paused to vomit
and when I came out
I saw her through my window
going down the court walk
toward her place in back.
she was trying to hurry
and balanced on top of her head
were 40 paintings:
oils
black and whites
acrylics
water colors.
she stumbled once and almost
fell on her ass.
then she ran up her steps
and was gone through her door
to her place upstairs
running with all those paintings
on top of her head.
it was one of the funniest damned
things I ever did see.
well, I guess I’ll just have to
paint 40 more.
waving and waving goodbye
I paid this one’s fare all the way from Houston
to San Francisco
then flew up to meet her at her brother’s house
and I got drunk
and talked all night about a redhead, and
she finally said, “you sleep up there,”
and I climbed the ladder
up into a bunk and she slept
down there.
the next day they drove me to the airport
and I flew back, thinking, well,
there’s still the redhead and when I got back in
I phoned the redhead and said, “I’m back, baby,
I flew up to see this woman and I talked about
you all night, so here I am…”
“well, why don’t you fly back up and finish
the job?” she said and hung up.
then I got drunk and the phone rang
and they said they were
two ladies from Germany and they’d like
to see me.
so they came over and one was 20 and the
other was 22. I told them that my heart
had been smashed for the last time and
that I was giving up women. they laughed
at me and we drank and smoked and went to
bed together.
I got this thing in front of me and
first I grabbed one and then I grabbed the
other.
I finally settled on the 22 year old and
ate her up.
they stayed 2 days and 2 nights
but I never got to the 20 year old,
she was on tampax.
I finally drove them to Sherman Oaks
and they stood at the foot of a long
driveway
waving and waving goodbye as I backed
my Volks out.
when I got back there was a letter from a
lady in Eureka. she said that she wanted me
to fuck her until she couldn’t
walk anymore.
I stretched out and whacked-off
thinking about a little girl I had seen
on a red bicycle about a week ago.
then I took a bath and put on my green
terrycloth robe just in time to get the fights
on tv from the Olympic.
there was a black and a Chicano in there.
that always made a good fight.
and it was a good idea too:
put them in there and let them kill each
other.
I watched the whole fight
thinking about the redhead all the time.
I think the Chicano won
but I’m not sure.
liberty
she was sitting in the window
of room 1010 at the Chelsea
in New York,
Janis Joplin’s old room.
it was 104 degrees
and she was on speed
and had one leg over
the sill,
and she leaned out and said,
“God, this is great!”
and then she slipped
and almost went out,
just catching herself.
it was very close.
she pulled herself in
walked over and stretched
on the bed.
I’ve lost a lot of women
in a lot of different ways
but that would have been
the first time
that way.
then she rolled off the bed
landed on her back
and when I walked over
she was asleep.
all day she had been wanting
to see the Statue of Liberty.
now she wouldn’t worry me about that
for a while.
don’t touch the girls
she’s up seeing my doctor
trying to get some diet pills;
she’s not fat, she needs the speed.
I go down to the nearest bar and wait.
at 3:30 in the afternoon of a tuesday.
they have a dancer.
there’s only one other man in the bar.
she works out
looking at herself in the mirror.
she’s like a monkey
dark
Korean.
she’s not very good,
skinny and obvious
and she sticks her tongue out at me
then at the other man.
times must be truly hard,