BAD TIMES AT THE 3RD AND VERMONT HOTEL Poem by Charles Bukowski
BAD TIMES AT THE 3RD AND VERMONT HOTELfrom: You Get So Alone At Times that It Just Makes Sense
Alabam was a sneak and a theif and he came to my
room when I was drunk and
each time I got up he would shove me back
down.
you prick, I tole him, you know I can take you!
he just shoved me down
again.
I finally caught him a good one, right over the
temple
and he backed off and
left.
it was a couple of days later
I got even: I fucked his
girl.
then I went down and knocked on his
door.
well, Alabam, I fucked your women and now I'm going to
kick you all the way to
hell!
the poor guy started crying, he put his hands over his
face and just cried
I stood there and watched
him.
then i left him there, i went back to
my room.
we were all alkies and none of us had jobs, all we had
was each other.
even then, my so-called women was in some bar or
somewhere, i hadn't seen her in a couple of
days.
I had a bootle of port
left.
i uncorked it and took it down to Alabam's
room.
said, how about a drink,
Rebel?
he looked up, stood up, went for two glasses.
***
