walking with bukowski

should he and i have met
on some sun-drenched sidewalk
in the city of angels
it’s easy to admit
that my younger self
would have better suited
his tastes with my former
predilection for bar stools and beer
and a favorite four letter word
often heard within earshot
of another pointless tirade.

but walking in footsteps
long vanished from unfamiliar streets
bleached beneath cloudless skies
and oppressive heat
it was easy to feel his presence
in the face of the homeless man
one block from highland ave

or the hustlers hawking
tours and souvenirs
to bright-eyed tourists
somehow missing what’s real
beating just beneath the tinsel
and paper-thin veneer
holding it all together.