Charles Bukowski's The Laughing Slob Poem by James McLain

As for all the 'difficult nights
which tries the fact it is always thinking.
That being said,
as such it required no practice.
For me, as for you what of me laughing
at who you are.
I who am the natural slob always under the shirt
which ever is which,
she never likes the fact that your place is on the bed
(of course it becomes dirty) (and the tobacco and the hole)
I shake the beer bottle while holding a shoe.
My labor assistant and pays me for lip service and things.
Dissatisfaction is said, 'and she nods,
concerned over this and that any which way and still I talk.
The woman who is said to pace the floor, you walk,
and I' Work and ' filter-less commiserates,
Spitting it out, say; Just a little, DON'T wear it like that?
Then profit, do your donkey walk I am here the empty nest!
In addition by my oneself,
which I have long since as a child because of her
and loved by my, really and my slob-love really and it is,
as for those other ones 'dear'
it seems they go away:
But you go away to always,
looking at your back section which almost always stays.