Love Is a Dog From Hell_ Poems, 1974-1977 - Charles Bukowski [4]
of reddish hair
which falls all the way down
her back to her ass.
the hair is magic and shoots
sparks as I lay on the bed
and watch her combing her
hair. she’s like something
out of the movies but she’s
actually here. we make love
at least once a day and
she can make me laugh
any time she cares
to. Texas women are always
healthy, and besides that she’s
cleaned my refrigerator, my sink,
the bathroom, and she cooks and
feeds me healthy foods
and washes the dishes
too.
“Hank,” she told me,
holding up a can of grapefruit
juice, “this is the best of them
all.”
it says: Texas unsweetened
PINK grapefruit juice.
she looks like Katherine Hepburn
looked when she was
in high school, and I watch those
103 pounds
combing a yard and some change
of reddish hair
before the mirror
and I feel her inside of my
wrists and at the backs of my eyes,
and the toes and legs and belly
of me feel her and
the other part too,
and all of Los Angeles falls down
and weeps for joy,
the walls of the love parlors shake—
the ocean rushes in and she turns
to me and says, “damn this hair!”
and I say,
“yes.”
the spider
then there was the time in
New Orleans
I was living with a fat woman,
Marie, in the French Quarter
and I got very sick.
while she was at work
I got down on my knees
in the kitchen
that afternoon and
prayed. I was not a
religious man
but it was a very dark afternoon
and I prayed:
“Dear God: if you will let me live,
I promise You I’ll never take
another drink.”
I kneeled there and it was just like
a movie—
as I finished praying
the clouds parted and the sun came
through the curtains
and fell upon me.
then I got up and took a crap.
there was a big spider in Marie’s bathroom
but I crapped anyhow.
an hour later I began feeling much
better. I took a walk around the Quarter
and smiled at people.
I stopped at the grocery and got a couple of
6 packs for Marie.
I began feeling so good that an hour later
I sat in the kitchen and opened
one of the beers.
I drank that and then another one
and then I went in and
killed the spider.
when Marie got home from work
I gave her a big kiss,
then sat in the kitchen and talked
as she cooked dinner.
she asked me what had happened that day
and I told her I had killed the
spider. she didn’t get
angry. she was a good
sort.
the end of a short affair
I tried it standing up
this time.
it doesn’t usually
work.
this time it seemed
to…
she kept saying
“o my God, you’ve got
beautiful legs!”
it was all right
until she took her feet
off the ground
and wrapped her legs
around my middle.
“o my God, you’ve got
beautiful legs!”
she weighed about 138
pounds and hung there as I
worked.
it was when I climaxed
that I felt the pain
fly straight up my
spine.
I dropped her on the
couch and walked around
the room.
the pain remained.
“look,” I told her,
“you better go. I’ve got
to develop some film
in my dark room.”
she dressed and left
and I walked into the
kitchen for a glass of
water. I got a glass full
in my left hand.
the pain ran up behind my
ears and
I dropped the glass
which broke on the floor.
I got into a tub full of
hot water and epsom salts.
I just got stretched out
when the phone rang.
as I tried to straighten
my back
the pain extended to my
neck and arms.
I flopped about
gripped the sides of the tub
got out
with shots of green and yellow
and red light
flashing in my head.
the phone kept ringing.
I picked it up.
“hello?”
“I LOVE YOU!” she said.
“thanks,” I said.
“is that all you’ve got
to say?”
“yes.”
“eat shit!” she said and
hung up.
love dries up, I thought
as I walked back to the
bathroom, even faster
than sperm.
moaning and groaning
she writes: you’ll
be moaning and groaning
in your poems
about how I fucked
those 2 guys last week.
I know you.
she writes on to
say that my vibe
machine was right—
she had just fucked
a third guy
but she knows I don’t
want to hear who, why
or how. she closes her
letter, “Love.”
rats and roaches