Thursday, July 4, 2013

Charles Bukowski a 4th of July

There wasn't much to celebrate,
of course,
our fathers weren't working
and the canned food from the Dept of Relief
all had the same terrible
stale taste.
nothing much was happening anywhere and
there was a joyless resignation
in the air
but I remember this one morning at about
6 a.m. on the 4th of July
1932 or 3 or 4, I don't remember which,
when I heard loud explosions
in the street outside:


my father heard me from
his bedroom

"where the hell have you

"out celebrating..."

"good for you, son!
it's a great country
we live in!"

I walked back to my bedroom,
undressed, got back
into bed.

he's got it all wrong as usual,
I thought,
I was only celebrating

-from a 4th of July in the early 30's, Charles Bukowski
Slouching Toward Nirvana