Poem For My 43rd Birthday

To end up alone
in a tomb of a room
without cigarettes
or wine--
just a light
bulband a potbelly,
gray
haired,
and glad to have
the room.
...in the morning
they're out there
making money:
judges, carpenters,
plumbers, doctors,
newsboys, policemen,
barbers, carwashers,
dentists, florists,waitresses, cooks,
cabdrivers... and you turn over
to your left side
to get the sun
on your back
and out
of your eyes.

Charles Bukowski