In my old torn bathrobe
I'm hung over
Hair down in my eyes
Barefoot
Gingerly walking on the
Small sharp rocks
In my path
Still afraid of pain behind my four-day
Beard
The young housewife next door shakes a rug
Out of her window and sees me:
"hello, Hank!"
God damn! it's almost like being shot in the ass
With a .22
"hello," I say
Gathering up my Visa card bill, my Pennysaver coupons
A Dept. of Water and Power past-due notice
His neighbor saying hello to him is annoying, Bukowski was a bit of a misanthrope
Back to the machine gun