it’s strange

it’s strange when famous people die
whether they have fought the good fight or
the bad one.
it’s strange when famous people die
whether we like them or not
they become like old building old streets
things and places that we are used to
which we accept simply because they’ve been
there.
it’s strange when famous people die
it’s like the death of a father or
a pet cat or dog.
and it’s strange when famous people are killed
or when they kill themselves.
the trouble with the famous is that they need
to be replaced and they are never exactly
replaced, and that gives us this unique
sadness.
it’s strange when famous people die
the sidewalks look different and our
fingernails look different and our bedmates
and our curtains and our automobiles.
it’s strange when famous people die:
we become troubled.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1977
Source
Original manuscript
This poem appeared in the following books: