Читать книгу The Pleasures of the Damned - Charles Bukowski - Страница 41

the wrong way

luxury ocean liners

crossing the water

full of the indolent

and rich

passing from this place to that

with their hearts gone

and their guts empty

like Xmas turkeys

the great blue sky above

wasted

all that water

wasted

all those

fingers, heads, toes, buttocks,

eyes, ears, legs, feet

asleep in

their American Express Card

staterooms.

it’s like a floating tomb

going nowhere.

these are the floating dead.

yet the dead are not ugly

but the near-dead surely

are

most

surely are.

when do they laugh?

what do they think about

love?

what are they

doing

midst all that water?

and where do they seek

to go?