Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Ruby.

Home
Drinking Milk reading Bukowski bored
I'd rather be drinking beer
Fucking the woman who turned Bukowski down

Reading her my own poetry
No obscene horror in that


The doorbell
Then she is here in my room MY room
In her leopard skin silk
Agent Provocateur
Bright red mouth
Hair as black as a raven's wing
Bottle of cheap red wine in her hand

A shadow of the Sapphire in her navel through silk

She has not changed much in ten years
Except the unmellowed ageing

Oh Ruby.

Two glasses in she says
You have not asked me to stay

If I knew you less well
I'd ask you to stay

You are every man's dream
But not every night

Repeated dream becomes nightmare
In which you do not turn Bukowski down

Ever


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