hey, hey, hey

sometimes you think it’s bad or just ordinary,
you rather adjust to senseless conditions,
then a new card drops out of the deck,
it severs the tendon between the thumb
and the forefinger,
a dark electric numbness overwhelms the
spinal cord
and your mother’s face appears upon a
billboard
skewered as it should be,
advertising the acceptance of
adversity as the norm,
you pour a new drink,
duck between the stink of humanity
and the ferocious boredom of
time,
come up once to blink,
go down twice to think it over,
dial 911
and get voiceless   voice
like the dead scream of a
caterpillar
as Rome forms the monster
and children as little
as flies
crawl the walls of your
brain.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1991
Source
Original manuscript