I never used to believe those letters in Penthouse Forum. Until one day, something incredible happened to me. Walking across campus back in college, tattered volume of Bukowski in my back pocket, I was stopped in my tracks by the most beautiful girl in my English class.
"You like Bukowski?" she said. I nervously said that I did.
Suddenly she let out a low moan and closed her eyes in ecstasy. Then she ran her tongue along her lush lips. I thought she might be coming right there. "Bukkie makes me so hot. Come back to my dorm with me, right now."
Our lovemaking was intense, what with my shouting out verses and lines, as she squealed with delight. Then she made me cover my face with a Bukowski poster on her wall.
Afterwards,we shared a bottle of something. She finally passed out just like her literary hero.
I walked back across campus on a cloud. I told my roomates about it, but they just called me a total bullshitter. I resolved to meet her someplace so that they could see that she dug my badass rebel intellectul stance.
Finally, I saw her in a cafe. My roommates went in with me.
Overnight, it seems, she had forgotten about me. She was cold and uninterested. "What about all we had," I said? "What about my "Bukowski Comes Alive" album?
"Oh yeah," she said with a bored expression. "I've moved on to John Grisham."
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