Bukowski, Charles: no return address

I am perishable and that's the best

part

as the snail crawls slowly under

the leaf,

as the lady in the cafe

laughs an ugly laugh,

as France burns in purple

twilight.

I am perishable

and good for that

as the horse kicks a slat out of the

barn,

as we hurry toward

paradise,

I am perishable enough.

place the empty shoes beneath the

bed

side by side.

as the dog howls

the last frog puffs and

jumps.