I was down in John's bar one day, to get away from my wife. She had a way of just causing my neck to pain. And I would think of what might have been.
I brought a book of short stories with me, by Bukowski, and nursed a pint, called a "pounder" in these parts, at the bar, where people tended to leave you alone. It was late afternoon, and a bright swath of light with dancing dust crossed the room. There were a couple of people at the tables. the few at the bar had a drink or two and left. John was a local sports hero, and fancied his bar a family bar. It wasn't really a place for serious drinking.
A few women came in and occupied a table behind me; I hadn't noticed them. Bukowski was telling a story about his playing a Nazi at the beginning of the late World War. He was talking about the Abraham Lincoln Brigade, which formed to travel to Spain to fight the fascists.
"....all the tall blonde boys had formed the Abraham Lincoln Brigade-- to hold off the hordes of fascism in Spain. And then had their asses shot off by trained troops. Some of them did it for adventure and a tip to Spain but they still got their asses shot off. I liked my ass. there wasn't much I liked about myself but I did like my ass and my pecker."
And i agreed. My wife liked my ass , and it was still in shape. I heard the girls giggling, women they were i suppose, past their forties like i was, but when i thought of my ass and my pecker, they were girls.
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