This poem is about the satire of heaven, and what I'd rather be doing
|So I'd be sharing the universe with the man himself
Mice of men, yea John was there
On a bench just East of Eden
Killing time with style, the man walked up
Ernest where's your shotgun I'd ask
Sitting on the boat with Mary.
Alcohol was present, and no one minded
Night came and we three sat and watched
Down the sun would go, but the moon never cast.
Big brown was the best horse he'd ever seen
Oh Bukowski, you're late as always I'd say
Out of booze! Ernest yelled at last
Zen like silence followed
Each of us should buy a case, said Bukowski
So we walked to Eden, the four of us.