see: ending

I always had a proclivity for happiness but was often sad because
I knew that where I was caught happiness had very little
I gave them the days, the long days of hours and the long years of
in exchange for some small time alone, preferably between the
walls, within the walls.

I had a little saying:   55 minutes for them, 5 for
there was also a p.s. to that:   save what you

the faces of the bosses and the cities altered yet remained the
same, yet,    getting lucky I began to find   little escape

and then the women entered and with each woman, at first, there
was some clear and magic
then they too became the faces of the bosses and the cities
and my proclivity for happiness became
altered:   they told me that I must give, accept, learn,
sacrifice, adjust and commit
but I had done all that long before I had met
them and I continued to do that after I separated from
each of them

and if this is being a male chauvinistic pig then that’s what
I am

and the title enters here:
A poem for Gloria Aldred.

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.