promenade

I am taking a walk about 2:30 p.m.
pass a group of kids standing around
looking at the engine of a car.
the hood is up and one of them appears
to be working on the motor.

I walk by
am thirty or thirty feet away from them
when one of the kid yells:
“hey, old man!”

I stop and turn, wait.
they don’t say anything, look down
at the engine.

I wait a moment longer, then turn
and walk along.

I hear one of them laugh, “I don’t think
he liked that!”

I don’t mind at all: at the age of 62
I can still kick their ass
or
drink any of them under the
table.

close to the grave be damned, there’s
not one of them
I’d prefer to be.

it’s a good afternoon.

I hope they fix their
engine.

Like this website? Support it.
I want to bring all of Bukowski's poems online and make then freely available. This means hundreds of hours of work to retype over 1,000 of his poems from the original manuscripts. Your donations will help support this work.