and

no matter

how unhappy

it made us

feel

remember that

there is a

cat

somewhere

adjusting to the

space of itself

with a delightful

grace

in other words

magic persists

without us

no matter what

we may try to do

to spoil it.

the horseplayer

how strange it is on

a hot summer

night

to come back in

and go over your figures

trying to piece together the action

at the track,

sitting in your undershirt,

sucking on a cold beer,

going over it all once again,

getting ready for next time,

that magic time

when everything you bet on

comes in,

just to put life straight,

just to show who’s in control,

going over the consensus,

speed, pace, consistency,

money earned,

it’s all there,

just around the corner,

the eternal secret.

better hurry,

the time is short,

you’ve seen 70,000 races,

many of the jocks you knew

are now dead,

better hurry, Chinaski,

don’t drop the whip,

go for the opening,

the wire is rushing up

at you

sitting in your room

in your undershirt

on a hot summer night,

cigarette dangling,

it has to be madness,

it was always

madness,

this endless search for the

ultimate

truth that

still can’t be

stopped.

the big one

he buys 5 cars a month, details them, waxes and buffs

them out, then

resells them at a profit of one or two grand.

he has a nice Jewish wife and he tells me that he

bangs her until the walls shake.

he wears a red cap, squints in the light, has a regular

job besides the car gig.

I have no idea of what he is trying to accomplish and maybe he

doesn’t either.

he’s a nicer fellow than most, always good to see him,

we laugh, say a few bright lines.

but

each time

after I see him

I get the blues for him, for me, for all of us:

for want of something to do

we keep slaying our small dragons

as the big one waits.

the parade

the waving of hands, the posturing of the

limbs in putrid whiteness,

the mouth without words, the eyes without

light—

such a farce, never a farce such as this!

boulevards of human waste on parade!

look at them!

look!

god, I’m going to puke out my battered damned

heart at the sight of them!

these awful disgusting creatures posing as

this or that—

a king, a bathing beauty, a dancer,

a clown, a mouse…

Christ, stop it!

the walls are falling!

this darkness shakes me like a dirty rag!

human waste on parade throughout the

centuries!

why am I the last one alive?

there’s no answer to

that.

bum on the loose

I climbed off a park bench to engage the giants of

literature in battle.

I lived with women madder than the gods

themselves.

I consumed enough booze to get an army drunk.

I lived in shacks without windows, without electricity,