Чарльз Буковски. Съешь своё сердце

Eat Your Heart Out

I've come by, she says, to tell you
that this is it. I'm not kidding, it's 
over, this is it.
I sit on the couch watching her arrange 
her long red hair before my bedroom 
mirror. 

she pulls her hair up and 
piles it on top of her head-
she lets her eyes look at 
my eyes-
then she drops her hair and 
lets it fall down in front of her face. 

we go to bed and I hold her
speechlessly from the back 
my arm around her neck 
I touch her wrists and hands
feel up to
her elbows no further. 
she gets up.

this is it, she says, 
thus will do.well,
I 'm going.
I get up and walk her
to the door
just as she leaves 
she says,
I want you to buy me
some high-heeled shoes 
with tall thin spikes,
black high-heeled shoes.
no, I want them red.
I watch her walk down the cement walk
under the trees 
she walks all right and
as the poinsettas drip in the sun

I close the door.