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
