The Night Torn Mad With Footsteps- Charles Bukowski by Charles Bukowski

The Night Torn Mad With Footsteps- Charles Bukowski by Charles Bukowski

Author:Charles Bukowski
Format: epub


I move to the city of San Pedro

when I first moved here

the neighbors were friendly.

the old couple next door

came to the fence

and she said:

“anything we can do for

you, let us know. we’re

home all the time.”

“thank you,” I told

them.

the young couple to

the west

didn’t say much.

“we keep a low profile,”

the husband told me.

“I like that,”

I said.

things were quiet for

a couple of weeks.

I dug around in the garden,

planted some corn

and radishes.

then one night

my lady and I

had a bad night.

we drank too much and

she declared

her independence

and revealed

her true feelings

about me

but either she

259

came on too strong

or she worded it

badly;

her tone seemed to

drip with a

pure and bitter

hatred.

anyhow,

it maddened my thought

processes

and we ended up

at 8:30 a.m. on a

very sunny Sunday morning

me naked

totally imbecilic

chasing her

through the garden while

hurling rocks

wildly and

screaming:

YOU GOD-DAMNED ROTTEN WHORE!”

and so forth and so on.

after a time, of course,

it all abated

and things became

quiet again.

now

the old couple next

door

speak to me very

little.

he, curtly.

she, never.

but the young couple

to the west

have become

friendlier.

260

he started coming by,

knocking, and leaving me

loaves of fresh-baked bread

from their oven.

then he came

to my New Year’s party with

his wife.

as the months went on

he came over for

many beers.

recently he came

to the door with

a couple of bottles of

wine and said, “I’d like to talk

and drink with you.”

then his wife arrived and

we were joined by

my lady and

we drank his two bottles.

I have never quite repeated

my opening act of

naked-in-the-yard-at-8:30 a.m.

and I hope I never do

but it’s curious

what

appeals to some people.

it could be that

what we think is

correct often

is

not very interesting.

261

sometimes I even think I’d like

to have

a neighbor

just like me

but when I really

think it through

I know that

I could not stand

that.

262

be angry at San Pedro

I say to my woman, “Jeffers was

a great poet. think of a title

like Be Angry at the Sun. don’t you realize how great that is?”

“you like that negative stuff,” she

says.

“positively,” I agree, finishing my

drink and pouring another.

“in one of Jeffers’ poems, not the sun poem, this woman fucks a stallion because her

husband is such a gross spirit. and it’s believable. then the husband goes out

to kill the stallion and the stallion

kills him.”

“I never heard of Jeffers,” she

says.

“you never heard of Big Sur? Jeffers

made Big Sur famous just like D.H. Lawrence made Taos famous. when a

great writer writes about where he

lives the mob comes in and takes

over.”

“well, you write about San Pedro,” she

says.

“yeah,” I say, “and have you read the

papers lately? they are going to construct a marina here, one of the largest in the world, millions and billions of dollars, there is going to be a huge shopping

263

center, yachts and condominiums everywhere!”

“and to think,” my woman says smiling, “that you’ve only lived here for three years!”

“I still think,” I say,

changing the subject,

“you ought to read Jeffers.”

264

lost in San Pedro

no way back to Barcelona.

the green soldiers have invaded the tombs. madmen rule Spain

and during a heat wave in 1952 I buried my last concubine. no way back to the Rock of Gibraltar.

the bones of the hands of my mother are so still. stay still now, mother

stay still.

the horse tossed the jock

the horse fell

then got up

on only 3 legs—

the 4th bent nearly



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