Читать книгу Essential Bukowski: Poetry - Чарльз Буковски, Abel Debritto - Страница 17

I found a loose cement slab outside the ice-cream store,

tossed it aside and began to dig; the earth was

soft and full of worms and soon I was in to my

waist, size 36;

a crowd gathered but stepped back before my shots

of mud,

and by the time the police came, I was in below

my head,

frightening gophers, eels and finding bits of golden

inlaid skull,

and they asked me, are you looking for oil, treasure,

gold, the end of China? are you looking for love, God,

a lost key chain? and little girls dripping ice-cream

peered into my darkness, and a psychiatrist came

and a

college professor and a movie actress in a bikini, and

a Russian spy and a French spy and an English spy,

and a drama critic and a bill collector and an old

girlfriend, and they all asked me, what are you

looking

for? and soon it began to rain . . . atomic submarines

changed course, Tuesday Weld hid behind a newspaper,

Jean-Paul Sartre rolled in his sleep, and my hole

filled

with water; I came out black as Africa, shooting

stars

and epitaphs, my pockets full of lovely worms,

and they took me to their jail and gave me a shower

and a nice cell, rent-free, and even now the people

are picketing in my cause, and I have signed

contracts to appear on the stage and television,

to write a guest column for the local paper and

write a book and endorse some products, I have

enough money to last me several years at the best

hotels, but as soon as I get out of here, I’m gonna

find me another loose slab and begin to dig, dig,

dig, and this time I’m not coming back . . . rain, shine,

or bikini, and the reporters keep asking, why did you

do it? but I just light my cigarette and smile . . .