On the door of the building where we had our coffeehouse, S has posted a Charles Bukowski poem.


coffee

I was having a coffee at the
counter
when a man
3 or 4 stools down
asked me,
'listen, weren't you the
guy who was
hanging from his
heels
from that 4th floor
hotel room
the other
night?'

'yes, ' I answered, 'that
was me.'

'what made you do
that?' he asked.

'well, it's pretty
involved.'

he looked away
then.

the waitress
who had been
standing there
asked me,
'he was joking,
wasn't
he?'

'no,' I
said.

I paid, got up, walked
to the door, opened it.

I heard the man
say, 'that guy's
nuts.'

out on the street I
walked north
feeling
curiously
honored.