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i am the dissident poetician...i tear down fences with sardonic sardines and metaphysical cucumbers

Sunday, January 09, 2011

BUKOWSKI BORES ME


Today, I received a phone call
from someone whose number
I had lost,
due to having my mobile phone
stolen
on a night,
in which the details
are sketchy
in the muddy banks
of my alcohol frazzled
memory.

The person calling
seemed rather sincere
in what he was saying,
but I detected
a hint
of an ulterior motive.

He told me that I could hang
at his decked-out abode,
rather than associate
with succubi
out to use and abuse me.

Just like everyone
else.

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