big night on the town

When I’m reading about the dark side of Los Angeles in Bukowski’s poems I am often reminded of another Angeles. However, if ‘Madam Death’ in Bukowski’s poem of the same title is a pen portrait of the typical LA hooker, I’ll stick to the PI! I re-used his pen-portrait (because you occasionally come across this kind of burned-out hag in the bars) but followed it with a pen portrait of the typical AC sweetie – the tone of nihilism (though watered down) remains. If you liked this, try the real thing at http://bukowski.net/poems/



drunk in the dark streets of Angeles
it's night, you're lost, where's your
hotel?
you enter a bar to find yourself,
what is it called?
Ziggy’s, Lollipop, Gecko’s –
they’re all the same.
you order a San Mig.

Madame Death sidles up to you,
she sits down, you buy her a
lady drink, she presses
a leg against you.
you ask for a vodka.
you pour the vodka into
your San Mig.
you've got her worried, she doesn't
know if you're a killer, a
madman or an
idiot – this is Angeles after all.
she goes, you breathe
a sigh of relief
and nod to the sweety on stage.
another San Mig, another
lady drink, another vodka,
two tequilas.

she is 18 from Samar,
one of a family of 10.
she sends money home
but most of it goes on
Tanduay
and cock-fighting.
(she’ll be fighting
a different kind of cock
tonight)

she is shy at first
but after the tequilas
she is dry humping in your lap.

It's one a.m. in a dead cow world.
you ask her how much for head,
drink everything down, it tastes
like machine oil.
(you doubt your d*ck tastes better)

you pay the barfine.
you have remembered where
your hotel is.


© Bangkok Byron, 2010. All rights reserved.