it’s the same as before
or the other time
or the time before that.
here’s a cock
and here’s a cunt
and here’s trouble.
only each time
you think
well now I’ve learned:
I’ll let her do that
and I’ll do this,
I no longer want it all,
just some comfort
and some sex
and only a minor
love.
now I’m waiting again
and the years run thin.
I have my radio
and the kitchen walls
are yellow.
I keep dumping bottles
and listening
for footsteps.
I hope that death contains
less than this.
(Charles Bukowski)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Time Poems, Sex PoemsBased on Keywords: trouble, footsteps, learned, run, hope, thin, here, longer, waiting, comfort, death