Buki

watermelon

and the windows opened that night,

a ceiling dripped the sweat 

of a tin god,

and I sat eating a watermelon,

all false red,

water like slow running of rusty 

tears,

and I spit out seeds

and swallowed seeds,

and I kept thinking

I am a fool

I am a fool

to eat this watermelon,

but I kept eating

anyhow.

Some Bukowski for your Tuesday. Rekindling my love with The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over The Hills... Sending off show submissions and rent today, also making my students watch La Jetee/ Sans Soleil. It's a Tuesday for the ages.