Two Poems with Bukowski

BOOKS THAT BECOME FRIENDS
by Andie Bottrell

I realize I’m not alone in this 
(though selfishly I wish I were)
I’ve read so much Bukowski that
he now feels like an old friend

and every book is like a letter
or a page out of his diary
that he is only ever going to
share with me.

That is exactly what all
poetry should strive
to be.


SITTING ON PUBLIC TOILETS
by Andie Bottrell

I don’t know why
I prefer being alone in public.
I’d rather watch than participate,
even though I know it makes people
feel uncomfortable.

You’re not supposed to enjoy
being alone.
People are pack animals,
though I’ve always been more akin 
to the wolf.

In middle-school,
I was home-schooled for the latter half
and I lost all my school friends
who deemed me
too weird.

And when we moved down south,
and I had to go back to public school,
the kids ostracized me.
It was a small town
and outsiders were considered some kind
of a threat, though I’m not sure
to what.

In high school
I did some time in the public restrooms.
I guess I used to be embarrassed
about being alone, too.

I guess it’s an acquired taste,
like how I now also quite enjoy
public restrooms.

Panara has a quaint little ladies room.
I like to listen to their classical music station
while I read Bukowski
on the pot.

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