Read this poem by accident when searching for Bukowski's poem books' pdfs on google in my colleges library back in 2010 maybe but it could've been 12. I ended up stumbling on this blog where this guy posted about his friend - who he hadn't seen in two years, maybe more - that had committed suicide and before going to the funeral he decided to look for something that encompassed more or less his relationship with him, and he decided to read the poem that I'm looking for, and under the story he of course posted said poem.
I may be misremembering something about it, but it's about a young, lonely-looking guy, either entranced looking outside the bus' window or reading a book (I don't remember), Bukowski comments on this and that like he does, and pities him for the future he imagines the lad will go through and the troubles he will face for being different.
It's not young man on a bus stop bench, it's not about a girl, or any girl, its not long but its not short either, maybe a page or two. I'm sorry but that's all I can remember.
I may be misremembering something about it, but it's about a young, lonely-looking guy, either entranced looking outside the bus' window or reading a book (I don't remember), Bukowski comments on this and that like he does, and pities him for the future he imagines the lad will go through and the troubles he will face for being different.
It's not young man on a bus stop bench, it's not about a girl, or any girl, its not long but its not short either, maybe a page or two. I'm sorry but that's all I can remember.