Filling Time

I started telling her

about this Bukowski poem

I had read,

but then I remembered

she could care less,

so I didn't,

that’s the way it is

a lot of times with us;

makes the whole process

so much easier;

sometimes I forget the rules,

and she pretends to listen,

but most of the time

we just remain silent;

there is one thing

we do really good together,

and I suppose from

a practical point of view,

that is the only thing that matters,

because when we do that one thing;

I don’t really care

about a Bukowski poem

either;

and I realize

that everything else

is just filling time,

until we can do that one thing

again.

.

.