I have to go to work.
eat your heart outby Charles Bukowski
I've come by, she says, to tell youthat this is it. I'm not kidding, it'sover. this is it.
I sit on the couch watching her arrangeher long red hair before my bedroommirror.she pulls her hair up andpiles it on top of her head-she lets her eyes look atmy eyes-then she drops her hair andlets it fall down in front of her face.
we go to bed and I hold herspeechlessly from the backmy arm around her neckI touch her wrists and handsfeel up toher elbowsno further.
she gets up.
this is it, she says,eat your heart out. yougot any rubber bands?
I don't know.
here's one, she says,this will do. well,I'm going.
I get up and walk herto the door
just as she leavesshe says,I want you to buy mesome high-heeled shoeswith tall thin spikes,black high-heeled shoes.no, I want themred.
I watch her walk down the cement walkunder the treesshe walks all right andas the poinsettias drip in the sunI close the door.
This is it. Eat your heart out.