Читать книгу The Pleasures of the Damned - Charles Bukowski - Страница 54

crucifix in a deathhand

yes, they begin out in a willow, I think

the starch mountains begin out in the willow

and keep right on going without regard for

pumas and nectarines

somehow these mountains are like

an old woman with a bad memory and

a shopping basket.

we are in a basin. that is the

idea. down in the sand and the alleys,

this land punched-in, cuffed-out, divided,

held like a crucifix in a deathhand,

this land bought, resold, bought again and

sold again, the wars long over,

the Spaniards all the way back in Spain

down in the thimble again, and now

real estaters, subdividers, landlords, freeway

engineers arguing. this is their land and

I walk on it, live on it a little while

near Hollywood here I see young men in rooms

listening to glazed recordings

and I think too of old men sick of music

sick of everything, and death like suicide

I think is sometimes voluntary, and to get your

hold on the land here it is best to return to the

Grand Central Market, see the old Mexican women,

the poor … I am sure you have seen these same women

many years before

arguing

with the same young Japanese clerks

witty, knowledgeable and golden

among their soaring store of oranges, apples

avocados, tomatoes, cucumbers—