ALONE WITH EVERYBODY

        The flesh covers the bone
        and they put a mind
        in there and
        sometimes a soul,
        and the women break
        vases against the walls
        and the men drink too
        much
        and nobody finds the
        one
        but keep
        looking
        crawling in and out
        of beds.
        flesh covers
        the bone and the
        flesh searches
        for more than
        flesh.

        there’s no chance
        at all:
        we are all trapped
        by a singular
        fate.

        nobody ever finds
        the one.

        the city dumps fill
        the junkyards fill
        the madhouses fill
        the hospitals fill
        the graveyards fill

        nothing else
        fills.

        Charles Bukowski