dying for a beer dying for and of life on a windy afternoon in Hollywood listening to symphony music from my little red radio on the floor.
a friend said, "all ya gotta do is go out on the sidewalk and lay down somebody will pick you up somebody will take care of you."I look out the window at the sidewalk I see something walking on the sidewalk she wouldn't lay down there, only in special places for special people with special $$$$ and special ways while I am dying for a beer on a windy afternoon in Hollywood, nothing like a beautiful broad dragging it past you on the sidewalk moving it past your famished window she's dressed in the finest cloth she doesn't care what you say how you look what you do as long as you do not get in her way, and it must be that she doesn't shit or have blood she must be a cloud, friend, the way she floats past us.I am too sick to lay down the sidewalks frighten me the whole damned city frightens me, what I will become what I have become frightens me.ah, the bravado is gone the big run through center is gone on a windy afternoon in Hollywood my radio cracks and spits its dirty music through a floor full of empty beerbottles.now I hear a siren it comes closer the music stops the man on the radio says, "we will send you a free 25 page booklet: FACE THE FACTS ABOUT COLLEGE COSTS."the siren fades into the cardboard mountains and I look out the window again as the clasped fist of boiling cloud comes down--- the wind shakes the plants outside I wait for evening I wait for night I wait sitting in a chair by the window--- the cook drops in the live red-pink salty rough-tit crab and the game works oncome get me.--Charles Bukowski