Goblets, not squats,
That’s what I’m talking about
Instead of exercise, thinking of getting
Hammered, like a Bukowski epic
Bender, without the cigarettes
And movie stars.
That’s where it goes,
When the fates send flowers in grenades
Instead of grocery store
Throwaway glass vases.
Let the corks pop
Over frayed nerves
That can barely stand on their own
So they can deal with the agony and security
Of another set
With Bukowski’s goblets
Firmly in hand.
Thank goodness I don’t smoke,
Better stick with some G-Love
With the same feelings of distance
But no rhymes or cool guitar licks,
No movie stars or butts either,
Only that desire.

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