Mine

Članak

She lays like a lump
I can feel the great empty mountain
of her head.
But she is alive. She yawns and
scratches her nose and
pulls up the cover.
Soon I will kiss her goodnight
and we will sleep.
and far away is Scotland
and under the ground the
gophers run.
I hear engines in the night
and through the sky a white
hand whirls:
good night, dear, good night.

Henry Charles Bukowski

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