Winter Comes In A Lot Of Places In August

Winter comes in a lot of places in August,
like the railroad yards
when we come over the bridge,
hundreds of us,
like Hannibal over the Mountain;
Winter comes in Rome, Winter comes in Paris
and Miami,
and we come
over our silver tracks,
carrying our olive lunchpails
with the good fat wives’ coffee
and 2 bologna sandwiches
and oh, just a tid-bit found somewhere
to chill our gross man-bones
and prove to us that love
is not clipped out like a coupon;
. . . here we come,
hundreds of us,
blank-faced and rough
(we can take it, god damn it!)
over our silver tracks,
smoking king-size in the grapefruit air;
here we come,
bulls stamping in cheap cotton,
bad boys all;
ah hell, we’d rather play the ponies
or chance a sunburn at the shore,
but we’re men, god damn it, men,
can’t you see?
coming over our bridge
taking our Rome and our coffee,
bitter, brave and

Charles Bukowski
This poem appeared in the following books: