Well, I just can't rest without you, love, I need your company

Here's a Bukowski poem for you... It's called 'Men without Women'

finally,
goaded by the high price of
female relationships
he lashed his ankles to the
bedpoles
and tried to reach his
own
penis
with his
mouth:
close but no
cigar.
another of nature's dirtytricks.

finally, in a fury, he gave it a last
madattempt.
something cracked in his
back
and a blue flame
engulfed hisbrain.

after 45 minutes ofagony
he got himself off
the bed,
found he couldn't stand straight.
each time he tried
a hundred knives cut
into both his back andhis soul.

the next day he managed to drive tothe doctor's
office
bent low over the steering wheel
barely able to see through the
windshield.

"how did you do this?"
the
doctor
asked.

he told the doctor
the honest
truth
because he felt
that an informed
diagnosis
was the only chance
for a complete
cure.

"what" said thedoctor.
"you'rekidding?"

"no, that's whathappened."
"please excuse me,
I'll be rightback."

there was a deadsilence.
then he heard the
soft laughter of
the doctor and the
nurse from
behind the door.
then it grewlouder.

he sat there
looking out the office
window:
there was a park outside
with lovely mature trees, it was
a fine summer afternoon
the birds were out in force and
for some odd reason
he longed for a shimmering bowl
of cool wet grapes.

the laughter behind the door
grew softer again
and then died out
as he sat therewaiting.

Up to Me