Post Office

by Charles Bukowski

I remembered one of the older carriers pointing to his heart and telling me, “Chinaski, someday it will get to you, it will get you right here!” “Heart attack?” “Dedication to service. You’ll see. You’ll be proud of it.” “Balls!”

Security? You could get security in jail. Three squares and no rent to pay, no utilities, no income tax, no child support. No license plate fees. No traffic tickets. No drunk driving raps. No losses at the race track. Free medical attention. Comradeship with those with similar interests. Church. Roundeye. Free burial.

The old gal was only another lonely creature in a world that didn’t care.

So many births! The nurse seemed very proud of my baby. At least, I hoped it was mine. She picked the girl up so I could see it better. I smiled through the glass, I didn’t know how to act. The girl just screamed at me. Poor thing, I thought, poor little damned thing. I didn’t know then that she would be a beautiful girl someday who would look just like me, hahaha.

Well, as the boys said, you had to work somewhere. So they accepted what there was. This was the wisdom of the slave.