the place

yes, I know that to you
I am not right
but to me
I know what is for me
and what
isn’t.
can I tell you my
dream?
my dream of being
me?
it probably won’t
happen.
anyhow,
I am within heavy
cement walls,
I am dressed in a black
robe
and I am sitting at an
organ.
there is a bottle of
heavy dark
wine.
I begin to play the
organ.
the blades of the notes
are sharp and soft
at the same
time.

it is a slightly bitter
music
but in the dark tonality
there are crevices of
laughter.

as I play
the implausible history
of the past
becomes more
plausible.

and best,
as I play,
nobody hears the music
but me.

it is only for
me.

that is my
dream.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1990
Source
Original manuscript