Not Bad Chinaski

my god,

they’re still making money

off his old buffalo ass of a hide,

he’s been dead for what now?

three, no four years, hell,

he’s becoming a regular

Jimi Hendrix of the literature world,

they’ll be digging up his manuals

for the next thirty years,

there’ll be books coming out about;

the early years,

the final years,

the in-between years,

the lost journals,

the never before published journals,

the secret diaries;

it’s almost enough

to make you want to puke;

especially when you just know,

somewhere the old bastard is

laughing his fat ass off,

and thinking to himself;

not bad Chinaski,

not bad at all.

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