Bukowski Drunk Dials...

Another prompt from https://scottwoodsmakeslists.wordpress.com/my-poetry-prompts-for-national-poetry-month

Charles Bukowski Drunk Dials Tom Waits...Again

I don't know where you found my saxophone Tom
but I want it back

You've left me this clarinet
and all the women at the readings laugh
at the way I pronouce whore
like they can see the chalkdust rise from my hips when I fuck

I make she grabbed my balls and almost 
             twisted them off. 
             her kisses 
             tasted like shitsoup.
sound like calculus
while you can make soda pop
stretch like Promtheus's liver

I know you're home
Tom
Where else would men like us be?

Tell me Tom
Where did you get your flophouse eyes?
Why is your tongue in the gutter 
when your arms are driving your kids to Little League?

I tell a young girl
I save up all my farts for the bathtub
and she smiles at The Dewey Decimal system of my hairline

I know my poems and your lyrics have shared a few hotel rooms
why do yours sound like they fell asleep smoking
while mine sound like they put toilet paper on the seat
before they sat down?

I'm a monster Tom
why can't I sound like one?
All the English teachers pronouce my name like I died of liver failure
on top of a fourteen year old girl
You get grammies for spitting hornets at microphones

How is it that when we left California
I got the weather while you got the quakes?


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