the bluebird (by Charles Bukowski)
there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too tough for him. I say “stay in there. I’m not going to let anybody see you”
there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I poor whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that he’s in there
there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too tough for him. I say “stay down, do you want to mess me up? do you want to screw up my works? you want to blow my book sales in Europe?”
there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too clever. I only let him out at night sometimes when everybody’s asleep. I say “I know that you’re there so don’t be sad”. Then I put him back but he’s singing a little in there. I haven’t quite let him die. And we sleep together like that, with our secret pact ,and it’s nice enough to make a man weep…but I don’t weep. Do you?
