Silêncio

the sharks

the sharks knock on my door
and enter and ask favors;
how they puff in my chairs
looking about the room,
and they ask for deeds:
light, air, money,
anything they can get -
beer, cigarettes, half dollars, dollars,
fives, dimes,
all this as if my survival were assured,
as if my time were nothing
and their presence valuable.

well, we all have our sharks, I'm sure,
and there's only one way to get them off
before they hack and nibble you to death -
stop feeding them; they will find
other bait; you fattened them
the last dozen times around -
now set them out
to sea.

^{Charles Bukowski, in The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over The Hills}

Publicado por jm em setembro 8, 2004 12:55 AM