TRYING TO FIND A COMMON BOND

AD winans

this young kid visited me
last year
from a small town in
the south or
the midwest
I'm really not sure
I was half-stoned
and don't care for visitors
much these days
and I bought him a drink
and managed to bum him
a joint
and we talked about
the old days
when north beach was alive
with creativity
but he wasn't totally satisfied
he wanted a woman
he wanted me to get him one
as if i were a pimp
and worse yet
I was forced to tell him
I can't even get one for myself
but he wouldn't believe it
he had read my poems
he had seen my book
Venus in Pisces
and maybe because
I had been a friend
of Bukowski
he felt that some of
the magic must have
rubbed off on me

when he went to play
the jukebox
I excused myself
to go to the bathroom
and while standing there
with my dick in my hand
I contemplated telling him
that we all lose it
someday somehow
somewhere
and that it would happen
to him too
sooner than later
if he insisted on believing
in fairy tales
and when I was through
relieving myself
I stepped out into
the back alley
and breathed in
the fresh air
and there was this dog
at the back
of another dog
humping away with
his tongue hanging out
and the other dog
looked bored
more or less
much like me
and I went back into
the bar
and against my better
judgement
put two dimes into
the public telephone
and dialed the number
of an older woman
I knew
who liked to fuck
young guys
but all I got was
a busy signal
and I knew as I headed
back to the table that
the kid would return
home
and write a poem about
how I had failed him
and I would go home
alone
and write another poem
about how life
had failed me
in this we shared
something in common.


WEEKEND COWBOYS

They look like rejects
From an old Western
Wanted Poster
With faces no respectable
Bounty Hunter would be
Interested in

They feed the slots
In Reno and Vegas
Like lost zen masters
Carrying one-way tickets
To Waco, Texas

Thinking all the time
Of all the women
That they have dug
Their spurs into
Wearing their grins
Like a sombrero
Two sizes too big
Singing old cowboy songs
Around campfire sites
Toasting marshmalows soft
As their brains
Their dog day breath smelling
Like yesterday's vomit
On a sawdust bar room floor