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Charles Bukowski - Layover

Making love in the sun, in the morning sun
in a hotel room
above the alley
where poor men poke for bottles;
making love in the sun
making love by a carpet redder than our blood,
making love while the boys sell headlines
and Cadillacs,
making love by a photograph of Paris
and an open pack of Chesterfields,
making love while other men- poor folks-
work.
That moment- to this. . .
may be years in the way they measure,
but it's only one sentence back in my mind-
there are so many days
when living stops and pulls up and sits
and waits like a train on the rails.
I pass the hotel at 8
and at 5; there are cats in the alleys
and bottles and bums,
and I look up at the window and think,
I no longer know where you are,
and I walk on and wonder where
the living goes
when it stops.

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Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 8771 times | Comments and analysis of Layover by Charles Bukowski Comments (1)

Layover - Comments and Information

Poet: Charles Bukowski
Poem: Layover
Poem of the Day: May 7 2008

Comment 1 of 1, added on February 25th, 2008 at 5:33 PM.

One of his best. I'd never read this one before.

Ross from United States

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