the lady has me temporarily off the bottle <br />and now the pecker stands up <br />better. <br />however, things change overnight-- <br />instead of listening to Shostakovich and <br />Mozart through a smeared haze of smoke <br />the nights change, new <br />complexities: <br />we drive to Baskin-Robbins, <br />31 flavors: <br />Rocky Road, Bubble Gum, Apricot Ice, Strawberry <br />Cheesecake, Chocolate Mint... <br /> <br />we park outside and look at icecream <br />people <br />a very healthy and satisfied people, <br />nary a potential suicide in sight <br />(they probably even vote) <br />and I tell her <br />"what if the boys saw me go in there? suppose they <br />find out I'm going in for a walnut peach sundae?" <br />"come on, chicken," she laughs and we go in <br />and stand with the icecream people. <br />none of them are cursing or threatening <br />the clerks. <br />there seem to be no hangovers or <br />grievances. <br />I am alarmed at the placid and calm wave <br />that flows about. I feel like a leper in a <br />beauty contest. we finally get our sundaes and <br />sit in the car and eat them. <br /> <br />I must admit they are quite good. a curious new <br />world. (all my friends tell me I am looking <br />better. "you're looking good, man, we thought you <br />were going to die there for a while...") <br />--those 4,500 dark nights, the jails, the <br />hospitals... <br /> <br />and later that night <br />there is use for the pecker, use for <br />love, and it is glorious, <br />long and true, <br />and afterwards we speak of easy things; <br />our heads by the open window with the moonlight <br />looking through, we sleep in each other's <br />arms. <br /> <br />the icecream people make me feel good, <br />inside and out. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Holt<br /><br />Charles Bukowski<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-icecream-people/
