• some people •

some people never go crazy.
me, sometimes i’ll lie down behind the couch
for 3 or 4 days.
they’ll find me there.
it’s cherub, they’ll say, and
they pour wine down my throat
rub my chest
sprinkle me with oils.

then, i’ll rise with a roar,
rant, rage -
curse them and the universe
as i send them scattering over the
lawn.
i’ll feel much better,
sit down to toast and eggs,
hum a little tune,
suddenly become as lovable as a
pink
overfed whale.

some people never go crazy.
what truly horrible lives
they must lead.

©charles bukowski