Notes of a Dirty Old Man

by Charles Bukowski

I call you funky Bukowski, because I think you’re nasty don’t get mad, cause, I like your nasty — it makes me hot to read about; you looking up ladies dresses or jacking-off in elevators or sniffing drawers — to get high; now I know you’re wondering who this is writing you. Well I’ll tell you who I am, nice and clear so there’ll be no mistake in pointing me out. I’m the clean smooth cunt you think about when you fuck those discharging wrinkled pussies, I’m the lady who sits down the row from you in the all night movies, and watches you cum and cum in your jacket pocket, and I slowly hike my skirt up, hoping you’ll look at my thighs as you — get up to go wipe your hands, I call it long dis-stance sex. but I love it I love the feel of your heavy breathing on the back of my neck as you try to poke your fingers in my asshole through the crack in the seat; now you’re thinking, (it sounds nice, but I don’t remember you.) but from now on you will/think of me/and after all — that’s what I wanted any way. my nasty man —