Charles Bukowski: "Poem For My Birthday"

To end up alone
in a tomb
of a room
without cigarettes
or wine--
just a lightbulb
and a potbelly,
grayhaired,
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

sunset with Sagittarius Ridge
Elvis sighting
Geronimo button in Grapevine Creek