Charles Bukowski: Sitting in a Sandwich Joint

my daughter is most

glorious.

we are eating a take-

out snack in my car

in Santa Monica.

I say, "hey, kid,

my life has been 

good, so good."

she looks at me.

I put my head down

on the steering wheel,

shudder, then I

kick the door open,

put on a 

mock-puke.

I straighten up.

she laughs

biting into her

sandwich.

I pick up four

french fries

put them into my mouth,

chew them.

it's 5:30 p.m.

and the cars run up

and down past us.

I sneak a look:

we've got all the

luck we need:

her eyes are brilliant with the

remainder of the

day, and she's

grinning.