A Fine Night

here’s one, wow, she’s walking along
straight ahead, sticking out her thumb,
she’s fat, no, I don’t want it, she’s
only somebody else’s trouble….
in my rear view I see somebody pull
up, she hauls in…

VIKING MOTEL, Vacancy, I park, a
woman talks to me through glass:
it comes to $30.10 with tax.

room 12, on the end.
I go in.   box of a room.   slanting
double bed, light blue torn bed-
spread, I yank it to the floor
take out my dick, piss on it.

the tv is black and white,
12 inch, I turn it on, turn it
around to the wall.

I strip down, do some shadow
boxing, decide to shower:
2 strips of soap, one for my
ass, one for my dick.
the shower head is built for
a guy 4 feet tall.
I gyrate about, thinking,
the only thing fascinating about
the South is that they lost
the Civil War and still can’t
forget it.

I leave the shower running, go
to bed and lay there

I pick up the phone, dial a
“where are you?” she asks.
“when you get personal you get
overbearing,” I tell her.
I hang up.

I find a matchbook in the
ashtray.   it tells me that
I am close to the beaches
        4 MILES SOUTH OF

I could fly to Peru
I could fly to China.

I sit up on the edge of
the bed
dig the portable corkscrew
out of the bag
along with the first bottle
of petite sirah
unpeel a long strip of red
twist corkscrew into cork
yank it out…

sometimes a man has to go to
a motel room
to find his
god damned soul.

Charles Bukowski
Original manuscript
This poem appeared in the following books: