Charles Bukowski




trashcan Lives

the wind blows hard tonight
and it's a cold wind
and I think about
the boys on the row.
I hope some of them have a bottle 
of red.

it's when you're on the row
that you notice that
everything
is owned
and that there are locks on
everything.
this is the way a democracy 
works:
you get what you can,
try to keep that
and add to it 
if possible.

this is the way a dictatorship
works too
only they either enslave or
destroy their
derelicts.

we just forget 
ours.

in either case 
it's a hard 
cold
wind.