Bukowski Knew

Bukowski was satisfied to know

that most people are full of shit,

but they couldn't stop him from

drinking, writing, getting into fights.

He knew he had the precarious

freedom of one escaped from

conformity, mindless routine

just to keep the body going

on someone else's track.

Two Swedish women came to

his house one day, fans of his,

just to fuck him. That's when he

knew he'd made the right decision.