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pulpico

Ô flots impétueux, menez moi ici.

The best way to get famous is to run away

I found a loose slab outside the icecream store,
tossed it aside and began to dig; the earth was
soft and full of worms and soon I was in up
to my waist, size 36, and a crowd gathered
and by the time the police came
I was in below my head
and they asked me,
are you looking for
oil
treasure
the end of China?
are you looking for
love
God
a lost key chain?
and little girls dripping icecream
peered into my darkness,
and a psychiatrist came
and a college professor and a movie actress in a bikini,
and a Russian spy and a French spy and an
English spy, and a
drama critic and a bill-collector and an
old girl friend, and
they all asked me, what are you looking for?
and soon it began to rain...
atomic submarines changed course,
Tuesday Weld hid under a newspaper,
Jean Paul Sartre rolled in his sleep,
and my hole filled with water;
I came out black as Africa,
shooting stars and epitaphs, my pockets full of
lovely worms, and they took me to their jail
and gave me a shower and a nice cell, rent-free,
and even now the people are picketing in my cause,
and I have been signed to contracts to appear
on the stage and television,
to write a guest-column for the local paper and
write a book and endorse some products, I have
enough money to last me several years
at the best of hotels, but as soon as I get out of here
I'm gonna find me another loose slab and begin to
dig, dig, dig, and this time
I'm not coming back...
and the reporters keep asking,
why did you do it? but I just light my cigarette
and smile.

Charles Bukowski, 1961