Read The Last Night of the Earth Poems for Free Online

low-wage
    pitiful
    job
    while remembering the
    rats,
    how it was better for them
    than for
    me.
 
    I walked to work as the sun
    came up hot
    and the whores slept
    like
    babies.

everything you touch
     
     
    putting on your torn clothes in an old New Orleans roominghouse,
    you and your stockboy soul,
    then rolling your little green wagon past the salesgirls who
    took no notice of you, those girls dreaming of bigger
    game with their tiny rectangular
    brains.
 
    or in Los Angeles, coming in from your shipping clerk job at
    an auto parts warehouse, taking the elevator up to 319 to find
    your woman sprawled out on the bed, drunk at
    6 p.m.
 
    you were never any good at picking them, you always got the
    leftovers, the crazies, the alkies, the pill-freaks.
    maybe that was all you could get and maybe you were all they
    could get.
 
    you went to the bars and found more alkies, pill-freaks, crazies.
    all they had to show you were a pair of well-turned ankles in
    spike-heeled shoes.
    you thumped up and down on beds with them as if you had discovered
    the meaning of
    existence.
 
    then there was this day at work when Larry the salesman came down the
    aisle with his big belly and his little button eyes, Larry always
    walked loudly on leather-soled shoes and he was almost always
    whistling.
 
    he stopped whistling and stood at your shipping table as you
    worked.
 
    then he began rocking back and forth, he had this habit and
    he stood there rocking, observing you, he was one of those jokers, you
    know, and then he began laughing, you were sick from a long crazy
    night, needed a shave, you were dressed in a torn shirt.
 
    “what is it, Larry?” you asked.
 
    and then he said, “Hank, everything you touch turns to shit!”
 
    you couldn’t argue with him about that.

car wash
     
     
    got out, fellow said, “hey!” walked toward
    me, we shook hands, he slipped me 2 red
    tickets for free car washes, “find you later,”
    I told him, walked on through to waiting
    area with wife, we sat on outside bench.
    black fellow with a limp came up, said,
    “hey, man, how’s it going?”
    I answered, “fine, bro, you makin’ it?”
    “no problem,” he said, then walked off to
    dry down a Caddy.
    “these people know you?” my wife asked.
    “no.”
    “how come they talk to you?”
    “they like me, people have always liked me,
    it’s my cross.”
    then our car was finished, fellow flipped
    his rag at me, we got up, got to the
    car, I slipped him a buck, we got in, I
    started the engine, the foreman walked
    up, big guy with dark shades, huge guy,
    he smiled a big one, “good to see you,
    man!”
    I smiled back, “thanks, but it’s your party,
    man!”
    I pulled out into traffic, “they know you,”
    said my wife.
    “sure,” I said, “I’ve been there.”

the flashing of the odds
     
     
    parking lot attendant, Bobby, was funny,
    wise-cracking, laughing, was
    good at it, he was an original,
    sometimes when I was down
    listening to Bobby brought me back
    up.
 
    didn’t see him for 3 weeks, asked the
    other attendants but they didn’t know
    or made things up.
 
    drove in today and there was
    Bobby, his uniform wrinkled, he was just
    standing there while the others
    worked.
 
    approached him and he seemed to
    recognize me, then spoke: “got all
    stressed out driving here, it took me
    3 hours!”
 
    he wasn’t laughing, had grown suddenly
    fat, his belt buckle was
    unfastened, I buckled him up, he
    had a 3 day beard,
    his
    hair was grey, his face wrinkled, his
    eyes stuck in a backwash, 20 years
    lost in 3 weeks.
 
    “good to see you, Bobby.”
 
    “yeah, sure, when you going to buy
    this place?”
 
    he was talking about the
    racetrack.
    I walked across the lot and into
    the track, took the escalator
    up, reached the top floor, walked
    toward the service stand.
    Betty saw me and got my coffee
    poured.
 
    “you ready for a big day?”
    she asked.
 
    “I’m ready for any kind of
    day.”
 
    “you come here to