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- Чарльз Буковски
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"
No
.
I
’
m
just
an
alcoholic
who
became
a
writer
so
that
I
would
be
able
to
stay
in
bed
until
noon
.
"
I
turned
to
Sara
.
"
I
didn
’
t
know
you
had
so
many
friends
.
"
"
This
is
unusual
.
It
’
s
hardly
ever
like
this
.
"
"
I
’
m
glad
we
’
ve
got
plenty
of
wine
.
"
"
I
’
m
sure
they
’
ll
be
leaving
soon
,
"
she
said
.
The
others
were
talking
.
The
conversation
drifted
and
I
stopped
listening
.
Sara
looked
good
to
me
.
When
she
spoke
it
was
with
wit
and
incisjveness
.
She
had
a
good
mind
.
Pearl
and
Jack
left
first
.
Then
Jean
John
.
Then
Pat
the
poet
.
Ron
sat
on
one
side
of
Sara
and
I
sat
on
the
other
.
Just
the
3
of
us
.
Ron
poured
himself
a
glass
of
wine
.
I
couldn
’
t
blame
him
,
he
was
her
roommate
.
I
had
no
hope
of
outwait
-
ing
him
.
He
was
already
there
.
I
poured
Sara
a
wine
and
then
one
for
myself
.
After
I
finished
drinking
it
I
said
to
Sara
and
Ron
,
"
Well
,
I
guess
I
’
ll
be
going
.
"
"
Oh
no
,
"
said
Sara
,
"
not
so
soon
.
I
haven
’
t
had
a
chance
to
talk
to
you
.
I
’
d
like
to
talk
to
you
.
"
She
looked
at
Ron
.
"
You
understand
,
don
’
t
you
,
Ron
?
"
"
Sure
.
"
