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- Чарльз Буковски
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"
You
’
ve
been
very
kind
to
me
.
I
’
m
not
sure
I
always
know
what
I
’
m
doing
.
"
"
How
long
is
she
going
to
be
staying
here
?
"
"
Two
or
3
days
,
I
guess
.
"
"
Don
’
t
you
know
how
I
’
ll
feel
?
"
"
I
think
so
.
.
.
"
"
O
.
K
.
,
phone
me
when
she
’
s
gone
,
then
we
’
ll
see
.
"
"
Right
.
"
I
walked
into
the
bathroom
and
looked
at
my
face
.
It
looked
terrible
.
I
clipped
some
white
hairs
out
of
my
beard
and
some
from
the
hair
around
my
ears
.
Hello
,
Death
.
But
I
’
ve
had
almost
6
decades
.
I
’
ve
given
you
so
many
clean
shots
at
me
that
I
should
have
been
yours
long
ago
.
I
want
to
be
buried
near
the
racetrack
.
.
.
where
I
can
hear
the
stretch
run
.
The
next
evening
I
was
at
the
airport
,
waiting
.
I
was
early
so
I
went
to
the
bar
.
I
ordered
my
drink
and
heard
somebody
sobbing
.
I
looked
around
.
At
a
table
in
the
rear
a
woman
was
sobbing
.
She
was
a
young
Negress
-
very
light
in
color
-
in
a
tight
blue
dress
and
she
was
intoxicated
.
She
had
her
feet
up
on
a
chair
and
her
dress
was
pulled
back
and
there
were
these
long
smooth
sexy
legs
.
Every
guy
in
the
bar
must
have
had
a
hard
-
on
.
I
couldn
’
t
stop
looking
.
She
was
red
hot
.
I
could
visualize
her
on
my
couch
,
showing
all
that
leg
.
I
bought
another
drink
and
went
over
.
I
stood
there
trying
not
to
let
my
hard
-
on
show
.
