filling an order

working as a shipping clerk in an auto parts
my packing table faced the street
and as I worked I could see
an old roominghouse across the way.
there was a big young fellow there
who just dressed in pants and undershirt
and now and then he’d come out on the porch
usually holding a pint of whiskey.
the front door of that roominghouse was
always slamming
and this fellow always seemed to be having
violent arguments with this
it went on day after day
and sometimes the woman would run
and the fellow would take a hit of his
and walk back into the

as I checked the orders, selecting the
proper sized carton, addressing the
label, getting it all
I would think, I ought to be that

and then I
only I did it a little bit

anything to get away from that
tape machine.

Like this website? Support it.
I want to bring all of Bukowski's poems online and make then freely available. This means hundreds of hours of work to retype over 1,000 of his poems from the original manuscripts. Your donations will help support this work.