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- Чарльз Буковски
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- Стр. 126/501
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It
was
3
or
4
days
before
I
had
to
fly
to
Houston
to
give
a
reading
.
I
went
to
the
track
,
drank
at
the
track
,
and
afterwards
I
went
to
a
bar
on
Hollywood
Boulevard
.
I
went
home
at
9
or
10
pm
.
As
I
moved
through
the
bedroom
towards
the
bathroom
I
tripped
over
the
telephone
cord
.
I
fell
against
the
corner
of
the
bed
frame
-
an
edge
of
steel
like
a
knife
blade
.
When
I
got
up
I
found
I
had
a
deep
gash
just
above
the
ankle
.
The
blood
ran
into
the
rug
and
I
left
a
bloody
trail
as
I
went
to
the
bathroom
.
The
blood
ran
over
the
tiles
and
I
left
red
footprints
as
I
walked
about
.
There
was
a
knock
on
the
door
and
I
let
Bobby
in
.
"
Jesus
Christ
,
man
,
what
happened
?
"
"
It
’
s
DEATH
,
"
I
said
.
"
I
’
m
bleeding
to
death
.
.
.
"
"
Man
,
"
he
said
,
"
you
better
do
something
about
that
leg
.
"
Valerie
knocked
.
I
let
her
in
too
.
She
screamed
.
I
poured
Bobby
and
Valerie
and
myself
drinks
.
The
phone
rang
.
It
was
Lydia
.
"
Lydia
,
baby
,
I
’
m
bleeding
to
death
!
"
"
Is
this
one
of
your
dramatic
trips
again
?
"
"
No
,
I
’
m
bleeding
to
death
.
Ask
Valerie
.
"
Valerie
took
the
phone
.
"
It
’
s
true
,
his
ankle
is
cut
open
.
There
’
s
blood
everywhere
and
he
won
’
t
do
anything
about
it
.
You
better
come
over
.
.
.
"
When
Lydia
arrived
I
was
sitting
on
the
couch
.
"
Look
,
Lydia
:
DEATH
!
"
Tiny
veins
were
hanging
out
of
the
wound
like
strings
of
spaghetti
.
I
yanked
at
some
of
them
.
I
took
my
cigarette
and
tapped
ashes
into
the
wound
.
"
I
’
m
a
MAN
!
Hell
,
I
’
m
a
MAN
!
"
