A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Charles Bukowski

"Hot Dog (Live)"

Hot Dog

When we started in, here would come this big, black, hairy male hound
Dripping of mouth and p*nis, stinking and panting and lurid with the smell of the ass
Whimpering, begging, snorting through Valentino nostrils
Stinking like a Hollywood motel doormat, wet in the rain
And when I stopped to kick him out of bed, she'd say,
"Oh, don't hurt Timmy!" and Timmy would run in erotic circles, smelling his as*h*le
Licking his thin, long, sickly p*nis
And I'd return to my task, and just begin to near enlightenment
And here would come Timmy again
Being in the missionary position, I was able to rat him a good fist or two across the snout
But it didn't stop him from sniffing, drooling, poking
And that's the way we finished, all three of us

She had a good job down on sunset boulevard, which was more than I could say
And when she left in the morning, she pointed out half a pill, a black upper, on the headboard
And she told me to go out the back because her mother had an apartment in front
And she didn't want her mother to see me
Then I'd take the upper and look at that dog
And his eyes would look at mine, openly
We had no secrets
And I knew and he knew that we were both her lovers
And I knew by looking at him that he needed her more than I did

I left that morning, driving in the bright sunshine, feeling hazy, spooked, unreal
But still alright
She phoned three or four times after that
Now its over, past
When I looked into his eyes that morning, I knew he loved her and that all I wanted was sex
Maybe if it would've been a man I couldn't have given her up
I couldn't have done it
But then I never met a man with eyes as beautiful as those that dog had

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

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