December 12, 2009


In the City Where Bukowski Died

There is this diner just south of here that serves this tower of pancakes covered with fresh fruit and shit; whipped cream. Same diner has home made biscuits n gravy.


Home fries.

Chicken fried steak.

Line out the door. Fisherman. Dock workers. Men with real faces. Jackets come off and get hung on a rack that gets fat with them. Waitresses are welcoming and proud like they own the shit. I hate them for this. I wanna be a proud waitress. I wanna smile and serve hungry men with hard hands. I wanna bring them hot plates and ask them if they need anything else. My heartbeat will still while waiting for the answer I want to hear. Eventually, I’ll hear it. It will never be enough, even with a 20% tip.

Let’s go out back, boys, got some fresh hot muffins for ya.

Keep ‘em comin’. Keep ‘em fuckin’ comin’.


xTx has her stuff all over the web, along with collaborations and an e-book you need tongs to handle. Read all about her and her work here.

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