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.
from "All's Normal Here" - 1985
Back to Charles Bukowski
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Comments1Wow, this poem really captures the sense of solitude and being content with just the simple things in life. It's kinda refreshing to see someone embracing a minimalist lifestyle with no need for material things. I wonder if I could ever reach that level some day.