" As I go to the escalator A young fellow and a lovely young girl Are ahead of me. Her pants, her blouse are skin-tight. As we ascend, she rests one foot On the step above and her behind Assumes a fascinating shape. The young man looks all around he appears worried, He looks at me. I look away. No, young man, I am not looking, I am not looking at your girl's behind. Don’t worry, I respect her and I respect you. In fact, I respect everything; the flowers that grow, young women, Children, all the animals, our precious complicated universe, everyone and everything. I sense that the young man now feels better and I am glad for him. I know his problem: the girl has a mother, a father, maybe a sister or a brother, And undoubtedly a bunch of unfriendly relatives And she likes to dance and flirt and she like to go to the movies and sometimes She talks and chews at the same time and She enjoys really dumb TV shows and she thinks she's a budding actress and ...
“ there are only two men I can really relate to in this world and one is on his deathbed and the other, well, his wife just ran away from him. and I sit here typing these things drunk as everybody else in the neighbourhood is asleep except for two dogs barking at the sound of these keys. it’s strange, I think, that the best I know are in trouble while the worst are healthy, calm and prosperous; they are also exception- ally dull and consider themselves my friends. I keep typing these drunk poems sitting in this chair smoking too many cigarettes and not understanding anything ” Charles Bukowski. “War All the Time”