Читать книгу The Pleasures of the Damned - Charles Bukowski - Страница 7

on the sidewalk and in the sun

I have seen an old man around town recently

carrying an enormous pack.

he uses a walking stick

and moves up and down the streets

with this pack strapped to his back.

I keep seeing him.

if he’d only throw that pack away, I think,

he’d have a chance, not much of a chance but a chance.

and he’s in a tough district—east Hollywood.

they aren’t going to give him a

dry bone in east Hollywood.

he is lost. with that pack.

on the sidewalk and in the sun.

god almighty, old man, I think, throw away that pack.

then I drive on, thinking of my own problems.

the last time I saw him he was not walking.

it was ten thirty a.m. on north Bronson and

hot, very hot, and he sat on a little ledge, bent,

the pack still strapped to his back.

I slowed down to look at his face.

I had seen one or two other men in my life

with looks on their faces like that.

I speeded up and turned on the radio.

I knew that look.

I would never see him again.