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Beercan in the Garden
Joan Jobe Smith
After the poetry reading, Bukowski was
supposed to go to a Tea in his honor, yes,
a Tea, and cookies, for Bukowski, sponsored by
the good people of the nearby First Assimilationist
Church, no, no booze, the good church people
probably thinking his Henry Chinaski persona
mere fiction, and I drove him in my white
Volkswagen there, the Laguna Beach aquamarine
sky above the church steeple matching
the horizon high sea, the geraniums and birds of
paradise in full-bloom July smiles and wearing
their best party hats, and when Bukowski
saw all the good church people standing on the
neatly mowed green-green lawn, saw the men
in their good Sunday suits, the women in
their pinkest frocks, waiting, watching for
his arrival, he told me, don’t stop, keep going,
I need a beer, so I drove him to the nearest
liquor store where he bought a 12-pack, snapped
open a can and told me get me the hell outta here
so I drove him to my outcall masseuse girlfriend
Lucy’s house in a bad part of Santa Ana and
Bukowski was glad to meet her and her boyfriend
Brucie, shook their hands, flirted
with Lucy, and while she fixed us spaghetti,
garlic bread, and chianti and we ate and talked
all night, Bukowski made us laugh until 4
in the morning when Linda, The First Linda,
drove him back home to L.A., and I didn’t see
Bukowski again for a year, and the good, tea-
sipping, cookie-munching people of the First
Assimilationist Church didn’t see Bukowski again,
ever.
Joan Jobe Smith, founding editor of Pearl and Bukowski Review, worked for seven years as a go-go girl in Southern California before receiving her BA from CSULB and MFA from UCI. For nearly a decade she enjoyed/endured a literary and platonic friendship with poet and writer Charles Bukowski. Her literary profile Charles Bukowski: Epic Glottis: His Art & His Women (& me) and her memoir Tales of an Ancient Go-Go Girl are forthcoming from Silver Birch Press and World Parade Books, respectively. She is married to the poet Fred Voss.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Beercan in the Garden
Beercan in the Garden
Joan Jobe Smith
After the poetry reading, Bukowski was
supposed to go to a Tea in his honor, yes,
a Tea, and cookies, for Bukowski, sponsored by
the good people of the nearby First Assimilationist
Church, no, no booze, the good church people
probably thinking his Henry Chinaski persona
mere fiction, and I drove him in my white
Volkswagen there, the Laguna Beach aquamarine
sky above the church steeple matching
the horizon high sea, the geraniums and birds of
paradise in full-bloom July smiles and wearing
their best party hats, and when Bukowski
saw all the good church people standing on the
neatly mowed green-green lawn, saw the men
in their good Sunday suits, the women in
their pinkest frocks, waiting, watching for
his arrival, he told me, don’t stop, keep going,
I need a beer, so I drove him to the nearest
liquor store where he bought a 12-pack, snapped
open a can and told me get me the hell outta here
so I drove him to my outcall masseuse girlfriend
Lucy’s house in a bad part of Santa Ana and
Bukowski was glad to meet her and her boyfriend
Brucie, shook their hands, flirted
with Lucy, and while she fixed us spaghetti,
garlic bread, and chianti and we ate and talked
all night, Bukowski made us laugh until 4
in the morning when Linda, The First Linda,
drove him back home to L.A., and I didn’t see
Bukowski again for a year, and the good, tea-
sipping, cookie-munching people of the First
Assimilationist Church didn’t see Bukowski again,
ever.
Joan Jobe Smith, founding editor of Pearl and Bukowski Review, worked for seven years as a go-go girl in Southern California before receiving her BA from CSULB and MFA from UCI. For nearly a decade she enjoyed/endured a literary and platonic friendship with poet and writer Charles Bukowski. Her literary profile Charles Bukowski: Epic Glottis: His Art & His Women (& me) and her memoir Tales of an Ancient Go-Go Girl are forthcoming from Silver Birch Press and World Parade Books, respectively. She is married to the poet Fred Voss.