this then –

it’s the same as before

or the other time

or the time before that

here’s a cock

and here’s a cunt

and here’s trouble.

only each time

you think

well now I’ve learned :

I’ll let her do that

and I’ll do this,

I no longer want it all,

just some comfort

and some sex

and only a minor

love.

now I’m waiting again

and the years run thin.

I have my radio

and the kitchen walls

are yellow.

I keep dumping bottles

and listening

for footsteps.

I hope that death contains

less than this.

Bukowski, Charles. « this then – », Love is a Dog From Hell, Poems 1974-1977, Harper Collins 1977, p. 134