There's this boring old woman where i work. Every conversation she has with me makes me believe she wasn't born with soul. She loves O'Donnell with as much passion as a hollow person can love someone.
That's enough of a warning for me to go in the other direction.
I have read all of Bukowski's books many times.
There's a poem that always intrigued me; it's about Jeffers and a woman (a fan) coming to visit him in the wilderness and him slamming the door in her face with a line that goes something like "I have found my rock... now go find yours".
I...
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