Big Chuck Buk is at The Drake

he’s supposed to read some poems

he’s drinking beers and smoking anti-social

maybe he popped some pills to

fortify for focus

a buzz is the barometer of his bravado—

the words came from a bottle

so does his voice

he really is alone in his sauce

lowlife liquid courage chronic

lowlife liquid courage rage

lowlife liquid courage brilliance

soaked on his soapbox

and who cares? it’s a goddamn riot!

the sober applause does nothing for him

he pissed away his ego forty years ago

Chuck likes the dirty girl in the front row

he reads to her

he reads for her—

a hundred bucks later

Charles, you’re a crazy genius

she says in his bed

then she leaves

before the bacon and eggs—

Big Chuck Buk sits naked in a chair

by the window with a notebook and pen

he hates Chicago

he really is alone in this sauce

lowlife liquid courage chronic

lowlife liquid courage rage

lowlife liquid courage brilliance

soaked on his soapbox

and who cares?

he doesn’t

he’s drunk and writing it all down