where’s it at?

o yes Huxley he motorcaded through southern Europe
and wrote this most marvelous book and Lawrence you
know he did all these great paintings of boys pissing
and Huxley did the peyote thing too and Frieda really
gave Lawrence a base and Huxley said, “it’s up here!”
touching his head and Lawrence said, “it’s down here!”
touching his gut
Huxley almost went blind you know and Lawrence had
this fear of snakes
sometimes I think of Lawrence sometimes I think of
Huxley sometimes I think of Charo with all that hair
on her head so chee-chee sexy
then sometimes I think of 2 Mexican boys punching it
out down at the Olympic
we’ve got a world full and sometimes I can’t sleep
and my mind won’t think of anything at all and I
look up at the dark ceiling.

Charles Bukowski
Original manuscript
This poem appeared in the following books: