Stomach Pain Late At Night

Health Heaven
Bukowski

Today I see in my small library of books a couple of Buk: Ham on Rye, Women are not the best of their production, but remind me of my adolescence. I guess the old man with a glass of "bourbon" in hand and a cigarette that fights the system, on the other. With the look of an old fox and probably with some marks on his face that left him his love of boxing and terrible acne infection endured. It is known that he preferred the bars and pubs and libraries literary circles, but who does not? Maybe that's what made more humane, more beloved, more nuestro.El alcohol, sex, loneliness and the more neighborhood-Goose-our civilization are the work of Bukowski, and I prefer to remember him that way: alone, with half-grown beard, the "Chuyo" type head stolen bank and the ironic look at our world.
NIRVANA / poem / by: Bukowski

without much eleccióny almost inadvertently,
he was a young man aboard a bus that crossed the North Carolina track somewhere and it started snowing and the bus stopped at a café on the hills and the passengers entered.
he sat at the counter with the other, called and brought him
their food, which was particularly good as well as coffee.
The waitress was not like the women he had known.
not made the interesting natural
humor emanated from it.
The cook said crazy things.
The lavacopas, back, laughing with a clean and pleasant smile.
the young man watched the snow through the windows.
wanted to stay in that cafe forever.
A curious feeling is flooded, everything was beautiful there,
that everything would always stay beautiful there.
then the driver told passengers it was time to leave.
the young man thought, I'm staying here, I'm staying here.
But he got up and followed the others into the bus.
found his seat and looked at the coffee in the windows.
the bus pulled away, turned a corner, and was
down the road, away from the hills.
the young man looked forward.
The other passengers chatted about other things they read or tried to sleep.
cuentade had not made of Magic.
the young man put his head against the seat,
closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. Nothing remained
only hear the sound of the engine,
the sound of wheels in the snow.