'Buk' This Christmas...

*a piece loosely based on the style of famed
poet Bukowski*





4:15 am
and he  dreamt
of a 'right' Christmas
but Jack
had other plans.

He liked it
straight up
no chaser, no ice.

She was bent over
her small,
but sagging  tits
singing praises.

He fucked her
like a two dollar whore
on  wednesday.

The pounding
from uptop his head
irritated him more
than the odor
reeking from his body.

Piss stained
briefs, and dried vomit
indicated he'd HAD his
GOOD TIME.

She felt ten pounds
relieved
and it was beginning
to look as if her
'night in shiny armore'
wasn't gonna happen.

Together the two
yet, separate
wonder...

will Christmas
ever truly feel jolly?