I had my bar dream
the other night,
only this time
it was a little different;
it started out the same,
same old rundown,
dimly lit,
hole-in-the-wall bar,
with the same lowdown,
rundown,
shady characters,
sitting around drinking
god knows what;
I have this dream
quite often,
and it always seems
as if I am finally
at home,
sitting on the bar-stool
with all the other
losers,
but like I said,
last night
was a little different;
this guy walked by
who seemed familiar,
“Bukowski?”, I asked,
he stopped and nodded,
we started talking,
I told him he was the greatest,
which he took in stride,
I’m sure he had heard it
all before;
he wasn't anything
like I expected him to be;
very polite
and well mannered;
when I commented on it,
he just smiled and said;
“don’t believe everything you read
kid,
especially if I wrote it”;
then he said;
“I’ll be keeping an eye on you”;
later,
when I had been awake
for several hours,
I thought;
keeping an eye on me?
what the hell did he mean
by that?
.
.
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