Charles Bukowski , ' Her Smile I Remember
Hampsters I many had and they circled around and round
by James McLain
on that wheel in the cage on my table, stop.
Dear, heavy window that covered mothers, old yellow drapes.
Exposing the picture the once happy proud face and
why is my sister, always smiling?
Running around her torn green panties, saying I want us all.
We are meant to be happy, come hold me,) happy are we, you we are(
Hurry please come now and hold me!
Better than bright and she neat and trim, always right.
It is better to be whats happy and when held, since by you.
Woe unto me, the poor brother and other, striped fish.
Me wanting to be happy, caught at it two or three times a
day and yelling at me to be come here know more, often.
Why can't then I,
pouting when I coming over there, too dare the smile?
And she would then curse and smile and show it to me.
Mercy is cheap beer how, and it was the wide strips those lips
and being full, O such the circle those lips and her crooked smile.
The bottle close up to her face that I, never could see them.
One day the hampster stood up on it's hind legs up and died,
one by one, then all of them,
some left on their sides, all showing their pink fuzzy tails
And all but one had their eyes glazed shut, some wide open.
That is when my sister after my mother had come home,
some went and she threw the rest out to the Randy, cat.
There on the cracked, red clay packed, floor.
I watched as my father moving as fast,
stepped on the cat,
mercy I said, that was it.
Watching the smile it was like she, killed me.