Come On In by Charles Bukowski Read Free Book Online Page A

tricks that
    she had taught me and could probably perform them
    better. I hope
    so. 
    and I just hope he likes sex
    62 times a
    month. 

to the ladies no longer here
    it’s just as well
    you should see me now
    driving to the racetrack 
    a tiny German flag decorating the rear
    window. 
    I dislike the heavy traffic on the
    boulevard and
    I drive through the back streets of the black
    ghetto. 
    the years have gone by
    quickly. 
    Death sits in the seat next to
    me. 
    we make a lovely
    couple. 
    a man finds consolation while driving
    and waiting. 
    one consolation is
    how lucky I am
    that I never settled down permanently
    with any one of the
    ladies.

    driving along, that thought comes back to
    me and falls at my feet. 
    Death picks it up
    looks at me
    shudders
    and quickly fastens his
    seat belt. 

the nude dancer
    she’s got a 6- month-old baby
    and a 9- year-old
    son,
    but
    she said
    it sure beats the factories. 
    why do those guys just sit there and
    stare at that thing
    when a woman’s dancing? I
    asked. 
    they memorize it, she said, then they
    go home and flog off. I danced last
    night and nobody watched me.
    they were all watching some movie
    where this woman was fingering
    herself, and
    after I finished my dance
    I stood there and told them,
    you guys are going to go crazy watching that
    shit. you don’t know where you’re at
    anymore. 
    you know, some of those guys freaked
    out? about 7 of them got up and
    left.
    no shit, I said.

    no shit, she said. I’ve worked 3 different places
    since I’ve seen you
    last. but it beats the factories and
    it beats the
    streets.
    at least you can catch a drink
    once in a while. 
    yes, that’s right,
    I told her,
    that’s right. 

Ma Barker loves me
    lying in the sack in the dark
    sick from days of drinking.
    head hurting
    tongue thick.
    watching tv
    phone off the hook.
    tired of trying to relate to the
    female,
    I watch tv.
    the walls stacked up around me
    like shields.
    I watch these guys blasting holes
    in people
    with their submachineguns.
    they need money
    they have trouble with their molls
    things keep
    screwing up.
    I get up to piss during a tire
    commercial.
    when I get back the main guy is
    lying out in a field with his
    moll.

    there’s a stream below them.
    it’s peaceful but he has a cigar
    stuck into his mouth and a .357 magnum
    resting in his shoulder holster.
    the moll leans over him
    she has blonde wispy hair which flicks
    in the wind.
    she says, “Johnny, why don’t you give
    it up?”
    “give what up?” he asks.
    “you know, Johnny,” she says, “killing
    people and all that …”
    “now, baby,” he says, “I’m just trying
    to get by.”
    “you could give all that up, Johnny, we
    could settle down in a nice little place
    with a picket fence and have babies …”
    “ah, now, baby, that life ain’t for
    me.”
    “well, Johnny,” she smiles, “it’s either
    give it up or lose me …”

    he sits up
    pushes her away:
    “no, baby! you don’t mean that?”
    “yes,” she says, “I do , Johnny!”
    “I’m not going to live without you,
    baby,” he says
    takes out the .357
    jams it between her legs and
    pulls the trigger.
    I get up
    go to the refrigerator and
    get a beer.
    when I come back
    there’s a shaving cream commercial
    on.
    I drain the beer
    toss it in the basket
    put the phone back on the hook
    dial a number.
    she answers and I say, “listen,
    baby, I can’t have you around
    anymore, you
    get in the way.
    sorry.”

    I hang up
    take the phone back
    off the hook.
    time for another beer.
    I like gangster movies
    best.

here we go again
    it’s stupid, I know, but I have an
    ability to feel happy for little or no reason,
    it’s not a great elation, it’s
    more like a steady
    warmth—
    something like a warm heater on a cold
    night.
    I have no religion, and not even a
    decent philosophy
    and I’m not
    stupid: I know that death will finally
    arrive
    but don’t consider even this to be
    a negative
    factor.
    which