Charles Bukowski

The Most

here comes the fishhead singing here comes the baked potato in drag here comes nothing to do all day long here comes another night of no sleep here comes the phone wringing the wrong tone here comes a termite with a banjo here comes a flagpole with blank eyes here comes a cat and a dog wearing nylons here comes a machine gun saying here comes bacon burning in the pan here comes a voice saying something dull here comes a newspaper stuffed with small red birds with flat brown beaks here comes a cunt carrying a torch a grenade a deathly love here comes a victory carrying one bucket of blood and stumbling over the berry bush and the sheets hang out the windows and the bombers head east west north south get lost get tossed like salad as all the fish in the sea line up and form one line one long line one very long thin line the longest line you could ever imagine and we get lost walking past purple mountains we walk lost bare at last like the knife having given having spit it out like an unexpected olive seed as the girl at the call service screams over the phone: "don't call back! you sound like a jerk!"

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