those

they sit down
batten down
talk
move their arms
they have nothing to
do
and since they have
nothing to do
they’d prefer to do it
around you

I am astonished at the
many people with
nothing to do
but batten down
talk
move their arms

they knock on doors
like people with
nothing to do

and when they talk
their desperation is
without agony
it’s more like nervous
affliction with
nothing to do

sometimes I simply tell them
to leave
and they do
and then I feel guilty
as if I had misinterpreted
their mission
I feel that I have offended them

not so
they return
they always return
each and every one of them
they sit down
batten down
talk
move their arms

but I know
that I am not the only one
who suffers them

they go from one to another
and when they go to another
I get the one who has been to
another
and
they sit down
batten down
talk
move their arms.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1978
Source
Original manuscript
This poem appeared in the following books: