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Bluebird

August 14th, 2008 Pete Leave a comment Go to comments

there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay in there, I’m not going to let anybody see you.

there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that he’s in there.

there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess me up?
you want to screw up the works?
you want to blow my book sales in Europe?

there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say,
I know that you’re there,so don’t be sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little in there,
I haven’t quite let him die
and we sleep together like that with our secret pact
and it’s nice enough to make a man weep,
but I don’t weep, do you?

Charles Bukowski

Categories: Poetry, Self-inquiry
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