the phone rang at 1:30 a.m.
and it was a man from Denver:

"Chinaski, you got a following in
Denver…"

“yeah?"

"yeah, I got a magazine and I want some
poems from you…"

"FUCK YOU, CHINASKI!" I heard a voice
in the background…

"I see you have a friend,"
I said.

"yeah," he answered, "now, I want
six poems…"

"CHINASKI SUCKS! CHINASKI'S A PRICK!"
I heard the other
voice.
"you fellows been drinking?"
I asked.

"so what?" he answered. "you drink.”

"that's true…"

"CHINASKI'S AN ASSHOLE!”

then
the editor of the magazine gave me the
address and I copied it down on the back
of an envelope.

"send us some poems now…"

"I'll see what I can do…"

"CHINASKI WRITES SHIT!”

"goodbye," I said.

"goodbye," said the
editor.

I hung up.

there are certainly any number of lonely
people without much to do with
their nights.