why these women make out with me. the roads are quiet and dark and peaceful at this hour. my head throbs from over-stimulation. i still listen to the music of my youth and the fact that it sounds so much different than todays sounds makes me feel so old.
age is a good thing sometimes. like after a while you learn how to avoid arguements, you learn how to do certain things, you learn how to see warning signs. you learn when to drive home.
its a bad thing sometimes because you get sleepy faster, you daydream about the oddest things, you have a hard time with patience.
when i was younger, i remember this one time i was kissing a girl in the park. we had been drinking, but not too much. but enough. it was sunny out still so maybe we had been playing sloshball. we rolled down this hill making out. only the second time we had ever hooked up. we knew we werent in love. we knew it was just a drunken hookup. but still when i kissed her that day she caused me to see visions when i closed my eyes.
i saw a museum i had never been to. i saw baseballs hall of fame in cooperstown new york. i saw babe ruths bat and ty cobbs old glove. i saw a ball hit by hank aaron.
we reached the bottom of the hill and i opened my eyes and she was still kissing me. so pretty. way prettier than she shoulda been. same age as me but older soul, wiser, girls can be like that sometimes. and when i closed my eyes again there i was back in cooperstown looking at old bases and the first world series rings. all these things.
tonight i kissed a girl who wasnt even walking the day i saw cooperstown. and she too had my mind racing into places that i never could have imagined. i thought about how black sparrow press should create a complete collection of bukowski books. i thought that they should have two sets, one which would be the complete set of everything that would cost a ton. and another set that would be half the size, a hand selected, curated set, that would cost half a ton. the half collection would be all the classics – ham on rye, post office, women, etc.
she got on top and i thought they should ship the books in boxes that look like cases of beer. then i got on top and thought they should start making beer called bukowski and stop changing the covers of those great books and give his estate the proceeds from the beer and leave the great works alone.
i wondered what this young woman, girl really, wanted with me. she was already rich. she was already smart. she already had lots of friends on facebook. it wasnt like our conversations were all that amazing. it was like she just wanted someone to listen to music with. nakedly. and have something to do with her hands.
driving home i didnt want to stop. i didnt want to get home. it was the same feeling i had in high school in the morning. i didnt want the bus to get to the school. i wanted it to hit an ice slick and crash into a fire hydrant, burst in flames and get put out by the hydrant water and freeze all in seconds as we kids watched in safety. an odd feeling because i liked school. and i like my home.
but i just wanted to enjoy the ride, and i didnt want it to end.
we had the best music in that school bus.
and now that music plays in my car.