open here

flowers on the lake of hell.
New Jersey dogs in thrall.
Max didn’t want it, Harry
took it.
old factories scream at
night.
I am warming up.
bottlecaps sit on my
brain.
I am giving off smoke.
I am smoking.
I am an Easter egg.
I am a paper clip.
this is what it should be.
like a train coming out of
the end of a tunnel.
full of fools.
and you sitting in the
men’s room reading
the sports page.
as the world comes to
its conclusion
nothing
happens.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1991
Source
Original manuscript