Regard Me

regard me in high level of terror
as the one who pulled down the shades
when the president stopped to shave,
enthralled by the way the Indian turned
through darkness and water and sand;
regard me as the one who laughed
when the cat caught fire in the radio
shack, and the owl blew his stinkin’ stack
grabbin’ mice and bulls and ornaments;
regard me as the one who picked the meat
from the bones and shot craps with God
as the poison coronets floated the air;
regard me, even as dead, more alive than
many of the living,
and regard me, as I fumble with flat breasts,
regard me as nothing
so we may have peace
and forget.

Charles Bukowski
This poem appeared in the following books: