valet by Charles Bukowski

One of my favorite poems from The Flash of Lightning Behind the Mountain by Charles Bukowski.


valet
by Charles Bukowski


I slide out of my battered
BMW
tell the valet,
"we accept but do not
offer mercy."

he laughs, "hey, hey,
I like that!"

he is a chatty
sort.
he shows me his arm:
"look, that's from a razor.
I was trying it one
night until I asked myself,
"why should I disfigure
a beautiful body like
mine?"
(he's built like an
ape.)

"either way, you're
right."

"what do you
mean?"

"I mean, do it or
don't, you're
right."

he grins: "hey,
yeah! that's
true!"

we smile at one another.

"I hear you write books?"
he says.

"that's true,
sometimes."

"where can I buy your
shit?"

"here and there..."

there is a line of
cars building up behind
us. it is a hot stupid
Saturday.

they
begin to
honk.

"HEY, YOU GUYS, KNOCK IT
OFF!"

"THEY'RE PUTTING THEM IN THE
GATE!"

"CUT OUT THE SHIT!"

the mob never understands
exchanges of
culture.

I move toward the
clubhouse.

my valet friend gets in and
zooms off in my
battered
BMW.

yes,
almost
anything
makes a
poem.