defeat
listening to Bruckner on the radio
wondering why I'm not half mad
over the last break-up with my
latest girlfriend
wondering why I'm not driving the streets
drunk
wondering why I'm not in the bedroom
in the dark
in the serious dark
pondering
ripped in half-thoughts.
I suppose
that at last
like the average man:
I've known too many women
and instead of thinking,
I wonder who's fucking her now?
I think
she's giving some other poor son of a bitch
much trouble right now.
listening to Bruckner on the radio
seems so peaceful.
too many women have gone through.
I am at last alone
without being alone
I pick ub a Grumbacher paint brush
and clean my fingernails with the sharp end.
I notice a wall socket.
look, I've won.
(Charles Bukowski)
