Poem For My 43rd Birthday

To end up alone
In a tomb of a room

Without cigarettes
Or wine -
Just a lightbulb
And a potbelly,
Grayhaired,
And glad to have the room.

...in the morning
They're out there
Making money;
Judges, carpenters,
Plumbers, doctors,
Newsboys, policemen,
Barbers, carwashers,
Dentists, florists,
Waitresses, cooks,
Cabdrivers...

And you turn over
To your left side
To get the sun on your back
And out of your eyes.



Charles Bukowski.