tired in the afterdusk

smoking a cigarette and noting a mosquito who has
flattened out against the wall and
died
as organ music from centuries back plays through
my black radio
as downstairs my wife watches a rented video on
the VCR.

this is the space between spaces, this is when the
ever-war relents for just a moment, this is when
you consider the inconsiderate years:
the fight has been wearing…but, at times,
interesting, such as
resting quietly here in the
afterdusk as the sounds of the centuries run
through my body…
this
old day
resting in the   shade
peaceful
but ready.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1986
Source
Original manuscript