On my way to work I stopped by this little breakfast place on the lower East Side to pick up a coffee and a scone. There was this old man in there, unshaven, New York bedrock, and he was talking to one of the punters. Then I realized that he was reciting poetry. Here is what I overheard:
Old Man: "… and here is another one for you before I go:
When I was young,
I loved girls and poetry
So I wrote poems
and chased girls
Now I am old
And I still love girls and poetry
So I write poems
and more poems"
Punter: “Wow, that’s a good one!”
Old Man: “Yeah, but a poem is not worth growing old for.”
And he walked out. I don’t know who he was. I do hope he lives in my neighborhood so that I’ll run into him again. But in any event: He made my day, at 8:30 am. And that’s saying something in New York.
If it is by Charles Bukowski, I probably assumed incorrectly that the man was reciting his own poetry. Or perhaps I just saw the unshaven ghost of Bukowski, which in itself would hardly be out of the ordinary on Rivington Street on a Thursday morning.
I put the picture there so you could see if it was the ghost. I wish i could remember where i saw this poem or something similar. Drat. I can very easily be mis-remembering.
Bloomie would only like you to believe he lives in NYC. I have it from reliable sources that his true residence makes him a western Massachusetts hillbilly
