On Bukowski’s Birthday
Not Brautigan – the other guy
who starts with B. Yeah, Bukowski,
that’s right. I get them mixed up.
Used to like his stuff. Liked both,
to be honest. Plain speech poets.
I don’t do that much, now,
my inner Beat has lost his cool.
I think it stepped in front of Sexton’s
speeding Cougar. Or was that
a mirrored tiger, in a coat
of many colors? Psychedelic,
man. Let me hide this stash
of words and we’ll head to the party.
Wouldn’t do to take them along;
you know? No one there is a user.
No one there smokes this shit.
Stephen Brooke ©2005