he showed me his buttocks

I had worked there 14 years, mostly
on the night shift, eleven and one half
hours a night.

one day out at the track this fellow
walked up to me.
“hey, man,” he said to me.
“hello,” I answered.
I didn’t remember him.
there had been 3 or 4 thousand of us
in that building.

“I wondered what happened to you,”
he went on, “did you retire?”
“no, I quit,” I told him.
“you quit? then what’d you
do?”
“I wrote some books.
I got lucky.
got translated into 16 languages.”

without a further word he turned
and walked off.

he thought it was bullshit.

well, maybe it was.
but at least it was my bullshit, not
theirs.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1991
Source
Original manuscript