2 noites fora = 1 noite sem posts

Por isso, deixo-vos um do Bukowski:

some of my readers

I liked it coming out of that expensive
cafe in Germany
that rainy night
some of the ladies had learned that I
was in there
and as I walked out well-fed and
the ladies waved
and screamed at me
but all I recognized was my
I asked a German friend what they were
"they hate you," he told me,
"they belong to the German Female
Liberation Movement ..."
I stood and watched them, they were
beautiful and screaming, I
loved them all, I laughed, waved,
blew them kisses.
then my friend, my publisher and my
girlfriend got me into the car; the
engine started, the windshield wipers
began thrashing
and as we drove off in the rain
I looked back
watched them standing in that
terrible weather
waving their placards and their
it was nice to be recognized
in the country of my birth, that
was what mattered
most ...

back at the hotel room
opening bottles of wine
with my friends
I missed them,
those angry wet
passionate ladies
of the night.