THE REAL DEAL: a poem

for charles bukowski

I imagined Chinaski reading
This one. This one about
Living straight and
Having a family
And working and
Retiring. All the time
While living that life
Writing stories and poems
That go into a big book
That only a few people read and
Even fewer appreciate.
And maybe I had some sort
Of existential crisis somewhere
Along the way. And maybe
I still search for that truth
(capital T) and way to
Enlightenment whatever that
Is. But mostly I just look at things
And see how they fit in the world
Or don’t fit. And I write down
What I see and try to get
The essence right.
I imagine Chinaski reading
This one and saying it’s
The real deal. And he knew
What that was, didn’t he?