A record and a letter

 

It was 1982 and I was sitting in my office
trying to balance the books of the company
I worked for.

They call
me from the record store: ”Hey,
your Bukowski record has arrived!”

I had forgotten about this, ordered
the record over a year ago.

I picked it up; the store was in the centre
of Stockholm. The record looked really good
Bukowski wearing his jacket the wrong way.
On Takoma.

(Two years later when I was working for
this big Swedish Record company
distributing the Takoma label I could say: ”Hmm,
Takoma, I know about them, they
have some good stuff…”.)

From the record store I drove the small car
to my flat on the south side of town. Over the bridges.
Cold but no snow on the streets.
Always rain.

When I opened the door
with the Buk record in my hand
there was this letter on
the floor, sender Bukowski, San Pedro.

I remember
I wrote Buk after reading
Factotum, six months ago.

Bukowski wrote that he was happy that
his books worked for me.

These things
made me
feel honored in some
strange way.

 

 

 

Published in I Know What She Will Say, 2003