Are You Drinking?

washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook
out again
I write from the bed
as I did last
year.
will see the doctor,
Monday.
"yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, head-
aches and my back
hurts."
"are you drinking?" he will ask.
"are you getting your
exercise, your
vitamins?"
I think that I am just ill
with life, the same stale yet
fluctuating
factors.
even at the track
I watch the horses run by
and it seems
meaningless.
I leave early after buying tickets on the
remaining races.
"taking off?" asks the motel
clerk.
"yes, it's boring,"
I tell him.
"If you think it's boring
out there," he tells me, "you oughta be
back here."
so here I am
propped up against my pillows
again
just an old guy
just an old writer
with a yellow
notebook.
something is
walking across the
floor
toward
me.
oh, it's just
my cat
this
time.

by Charles Bukowski

Comments (28)

The end is touching I can relate a hundred percent, sometimes when you are really drunk the alcohol makes you see thing that aren't there, sometimes those things scare the shit out of you. I don't know if the end reflects relief when he realizes that the thing coming towards him is his cat, or disappointment because he is so donde with life that he rather see monsters than real things.
Depiction of life in a sort of devoid of meaning to be deserved of living. We are trapped in it like some be fooled Thanks for sharing.
Old yellow notebook- - He was writing from his bed- - - -Perhaps he was disillusioned with life, Perhaps feeling unwanted.Writing was the only escape route, He was drunk in poetry.
Great poem...I love it.
I've spent some time at Santa Anita Park. Watched my niece's graduation ceremony there. Placed a few bets. I hate horse races. Drive past it everyday for work and going to the mall. It's a beautiful place with a beautiful view of Mt. Wilson.
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