like a movie

it was like a movie.
I got the phonecall and picked her   up
at a bar off of
Vine.
she was in a booth
and the patrons were watching a
baseball game.
Friday evening.
she was drinking a light
wine.
I got the tab:   2.75
and left a
quarter tip.

when she saw my 15   year old car
she said,
shit.

I said, do you want to get in or
not?

she got in.

at my place I rolled her a joint
and poured 2 scotch and
sodas.

she put her head   in my lap
and said,
that fucking job is killing
me.

I rubbed her temples, her nose,
her eyebrows.   she arched   her neck back
to kiss me.   I kissed
her.

the phone rang.   I got up and
answered it, came back
out.

that was Vicki, I said, I’ve got to
go.

shit, she said from flat on her back,
when do you write?

I smiled at her
and closed the
door.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1974
Source
Original manuscript
This poem appeared in the following books: