I MAY NEVER WRITE ANOTHER POEM

I read a poem recently
on the internet
by Charles Bukowski
I like his stuff
and this one in particular
made me laugh

In it, he said that he will
now grieve silently for 15 minutes
for the redhead

Apparently, he too, on misread nights
has felt his eyebrows singe
if you get too close...

But I grieve no longer for redheads
or for anyone in particular
I am past grief.

And am now on my rocket ship
to a calm and gentle place
deep within my gut.

And when I arrive, safe and sound
I may never write another poem,
or even own a pen.

©Copyright Robert H. Phillips (Date Unknown)