What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire by Charles Bukowski Page A

ready
    and male leans against her
    he wants it
    he pushes against her
    follows her around
    those tiny heads up in the sky
    their eyes are pools of brown
    the necks rock
    they bump
    walk about
    2 ungainly forms
    stretching up in the air
    those stupid legs
    those stupid necks
    he wants it
    she doesn’t care
    this is the way the gods have arranged it
    for the moment:
    one caring
    one not caring
    and the people watch
    and throw peanuts and candy wrappers
    and chunks of green and blue popsicles
    they don’t care either.
    that’s the way the gods have
    arranged it
    for now.

coke blues
    if you think some women want only your love
    try giving them some coke
    they won’t remember the
    color of your eyes
    or what you whispered in their
    ear.
    but lay out some lines
    and give them a matchstick
    (to prove they are professional)
    and
    unlike a woman in love
    they will return
    faithfully.
    and one must admit
    that faith in any
    form
    is
    probably
    better than the
    indifference of deserted
    sidewalks.
    and then one
    wonders
    again.

nobody home
    I live in this nice
    place
    but I’m seldom there
    day or night,
    all the shades down
    I’m not in
    there.
    sometimes I think I’d like
    to bake a cake
    but I’m never there long enough for
    the oven to get
    warm.
    I’m not there to answer the
    phone.
    I get the mail and
    leave.
    290 bucks rent plus
    utilities.
    I used to be a hermit.
    a hot woman can pull a man
    right out of his
    shell. right out of his skin
    if she wants
    to.
    if I ever get that cake baked
    you’re going to see some
    fine
    work.
    you can see the mountains from my window
    it’s a block from Sunset Boulevard.
    most interesting cracks in the ceiling from
    the last earthquake.
    and when you knock
    the broken screen will sometimes fall
    and dogs will run by like the Hollywood wind.
    the note you leave will be read, then
    forgotten.
    when a hot woman meets a hermit
    one of them is going to
    change.

woman in the supermarket
    you don’t think you’ll find anybody in there
    at 9:30 a.m.
    I was rolling my cart along and
    she blocked me off with her cart between the
    cheese section, the homemade pickles and the clerk
    who was stamping jars of newly-arrived green
    olives. I put it in reverse and
    ran through the produce section, found a
    good buy on navel oranges, 60 cents a pound,
    picked up some cabbage and green onions, rolled
    out and to the east, she was standing in front of the
    Bran Flakes and the Wheaties, skirt about 3 inches
    above the knee and tight-fitting. she had on a
    see-through blouse with a very brief brassiere.
    she had slim ankles, flat brown shoes and eyes like
    a startled doe.
    she smelled of cherry blossoms and French perfume.
    36 years old and unhappy in marriage,
    her basket was still empty. I pushed past. her eyes
    were a rich mad brown, all the meats were priced too
    high. I found 2 day-old spencer steaks and one
    marked-down sirloin, so I took those, got a dozen medium
    eggs, and there she was in the frozen vegetable section,
    the mad brown eyes more unhappy than ever.
    I lowered my head and pushed past and as I did she
    managed to brush her rump against my flank. I got some
    frozen peas, some baby limas, I rushed through the bread
section,
    decided my shopping was done, got in the checkout
    line and was standing there when I felt a leg pressed
    against me from ankle to waist. I stood silent smelling
    the cherry blossoms and French perfume as she lit a cigarette.
    I took my bags, walked to the parking lot and got into my
    car, started it, backed out, turned south and
    there she was standing in front of me, smiling and staring.
    my car stalled as I watched
    her climb into hers, hiking her skirt very high, full fat
    thighs, flashes of pink panty, I got out of there fast, got
    back to my kitchen, put the groceries on the table,
    took the
    things out of the bags and started putting them
    away.

fast track
    jesus christ
    the horses again
    I mean I said I’d never