Bukowskis Apartment Poem by James McLain

Some times watching Bukowski's move
never leaves me more than a bottle of beer
his are barely kept half full.
He took hold of her left hand
and guided her right up past the neck
and to his lips,
looking once she never kissed me.

Giving me instead that knowing glance
as she did as I thought so,
I could hear the clicking of her high heels
on the linoleum floor as they rounded the corner
and disappeared outside.

Bukowski leaving me at the bar I asked,
where they were going
and gone and she said that Bukowski
had taken the slut outside to show her
the beer garden.

I laughed and Bukowski said,
she'll see more than the garden,
again they both laughed.

She then pulled her panties aside
and pissed in his full bottle.
While I was chatting to Bukowski
about her face it was saying,
what a good looking piece of blubber and he was
and that they hoped
she would give them all a good mucking.

I called out to Bukowski
him saying,
what I thought she would say to that.

About ten minutes later
she came after Bukowski left
It was then
that she told me
how she became his slut
as she drove me home right past him.