BeerI don't know how many bottles of beerI have consumed while waiting for thingsto get betterI dont know how much wine and whiskyand beermostly beerI have consumed aftersplits with women-waiting for the phone to ringwaiting for the sound of footsteps,and the phone to ringwaiting for the sounds of footsteps,and the phone never ringsuntil much laterand the footsteps never arriveuntil much laterwhen my stomach is coming upout of my mouththey arrive as fresh as spring flowers:"what the hell have you done to yourself?it will be 3 days before you can **** me!"the female is durableshe lives seven and one half years longerthan the male, and she drinks very little beerbecause she knows its bad for the figure.while we are going madthey are outdancing and laughingwith horney cowboys.well, there's beersacks and sacks of empty beer bottlesand when you pick one upthe bottle fall through the wet bottomof the paper sackrollingclankingspilling gray wet ashand stale beer,or the sacks fall over at 4 a.m.in the morningmaking the only sound in your life.beerrivers and seas of beerthe radio singing love songsas the phone remains silentand the walls standstraight up and downand beer is all there is.~ Charles Bukowski