through." she had on new boots, pants
and a white sweater. "I know what I
want now." she was from Chicago and
had settled in L.A.'s Fairfax district.
"you promised me champagne,"
"I was drunk when I phoned. how about
"no, pass me your joint."
she inhaled, let it out:
"this isn't very good stuff."
she handed it back.
"there's a difference," I said, "between
making it and simply becoming hard."
"you like my boots?"
"yes, very nice."
"listen, I've got to go. can I use
when she came out she had on a
large lipstick mouth. I hadn't seen
one of those since I was a boy.
I kissed her in the doorway
feeling the lipstick rub off on my
"goodbye," she said.
"goodbye," I said.
she went up the walk toward her car.
I closed the door.
she knew what she wanted and it wasn't
I know more women like that than any
Charles Bukowski, in Love is a Dog from Hell
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