Charles Bukowski




the man in the brown suit

fuck, he was small
maybe 5-3,
135 pounds,
I didn’t like
him,
he sat there at his desk
at the
bank
and as I waited in line
he seemed to have a way
of glancing at
me
and I stared
back,
I don’t know what
it was
that caused the
animosity.
he had this little mustache
that drooped
at the ends,
he was in his mid-forties
and like most people who worked
in bank
she had a non-committal
yet self-important
personality.

one day I almost went
over the railing
to ask him
What the hell
was he looking
at?

today I went in
and stood in line
and saw him leave his
desk.
one of the lady tellers was
having a problem
with a man
at her
window
and the man
in the brown suit
began to hold
counsel with both of
them.
suddenly
the man in the brown suit
vaulted the
railing
got behind the other
man
wrapped his arms
about him
then dragged him along
to a latch
entrance
along the railing
reached over
unhooked the latch
while still managing to
hold the
man.
then he dragged him
in there
latched they
gate
and while holding the
man
he told one of the
girls,
“Phone the
police.”

the man he was holding was
about 20, black, a good 6-2,
maybe 190 pounds,
and I thought, hey,
break loose, man, jail is a
long time.

but he just stood
there
being
held.

I left before the
police
arrived.

the next time
I went to the bank
the man in the brown suit
was behind his
desk.
and when he glanced at
me
I smiled just a
little.