the perfect silence

all that
eye
all that
understanding
all that
mascara
all that earring

all those
tits

will go
elsewhere.

I realize
that
I might be
missing
the
final
chance

by leaving
it
off the
hook.

now
I only
phone out
for
liquor
deliverance
ambulance
fire
police.

I’m back
where I was
years ago:
I don’t want to
hear the good news
of the human
voice.

I keep it
off the
hook

I am
not
for whom the
bell
tolls

it tolls
for
you.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1982
Source
Original manuscript