I’m Waiting For My Man (The Day That Lou Reed Meet Charles Bukowski)

Barata Cichetto .  Translate and Voice: Daniel Kobra Kaemmerer

 

I’m a white guy. Singer and composer. I’m wear sunglasses and a well worn black leather jacket. I’m standing in front a building in San Pedro, California.  I don’t know how I ended up here! I’m feeling dirty and sick, I’m almost dead. I’m waiting for my man.

I’m from New York. And there, my  best friend was  just a dealer. But here, in San Pedro, I’m wait for another man. Yeah, he’s a kind of dealer. He have a good shit and I get high for days. He’s a writer. He’s sell words. In fact are capsules of purest and crazy sensations. Our shit is sugar. But his sugar in another stuff, like bitches that waiting in sidewalks selling his bodies for money. By the way, I’m a dealer too. But my shit is music. Well I was said. I’m just a singer and composer. I ‘been around taking all the types of dope.

I’m standing in from of this building. I ring the bell. A brunette with a  big horse eyes open the door. Her hair seems a wig. Her name is Rachel. And she`s a tranny like I sing about in my music. She`s a man. But not my man. And she wanna be my girl. Oh, shit she’s damn thing. And then she’s turns and say to follow her I look for that ass. It looks like hot, man. I’m entering the place – ever with my eyes in that ass – and then we arrived in the middle of that room, there’s a man. He get up from the chair with his booze in his hand and walk to hang me like an old friend.

He seems a junkie horseracing punter. And he said:

“- No ass is worth 50 bucks!”. So, I’m told to him:

“- I’m a white guy wearing sunglasses, boots and black leather jacket”, I never paid one dollar for an ass!”

“- Rachel”, he said, “is not a woman!”, “ Oh, she’s nothing. But she is everything. Everything that she wants to need!”  “ok” …

“- I’m a bi  sometimes. Except when we rock and that animal parties. I’m from NY. And there, is the place where everyone can be what they want and whoever they want to be. I’m singer and composer.

I’m on the streets. And I know what I’m saying.

“- All of this is a horrific movie starring bad actors. We act badly. So, what’s the problem?”

Well friend… It was Sunday and I drank cheap wine in the park, that place was full of brats. I’m hate parks, hate cheap wine and hate brats! So I’ve decided to move for another place. In this place there’s man looks like I meet before and other man that was almost a man and she or he seems to want give your ass to me or fuck me. I don’t know! I was waiting for my man. And this is all!

Rachel and the man get up. She hold your arms in the sofa and said:

–  “Honey, take booze. Lets this kid feels like a man”.

The old man go to the kitchen and Rachel comes to me. Few minutes later I was fucking that ass. I put my hand between his legs and found a big cock that turn bigger when I touched it. I hadn’t asked Rachel how much it would cost to fuck your ass. But it was not worth more than 50 bucks! So, I came in Rachel’s ass and she came on the sofa, getting my hand dirty. The man returned with the bottle and glasses. We drank in silence while she ran her fingers he ran his fingers over the sperm and  licked then .

The man, then I discovered called Charles, still looking me, drinking, smoking and coughing. He was a fucking disgusting fellow with a German accent. He kept looking at a typewriter in the corner of the room as if he remembered something to write and needed to do immediately. Maybe he hid heroin inside that thing? I just thought about Rachel. She was a goddamn junkie. Perhaps a Venus in furs, perhaps she would prefer to be whipped and beaten in the face. Maybe not. Maybe hit me with a flower. She and her horse eyes and strong legs.

So, I started to sing my songs and the old man to recite his poetry and when our non-sense duet ended, Rachel said, “It’s too late!”

So, Charles ask me if I wanted to be a writer. And I answer him: “No, I’m just waiting my man.’”

Turnning another glass, he said:

“- No ass is worth more than 50 bucks!”

It was a perfect day…I paid 50 to Rachel put my boots and my black leather jacket. I heard the man  say to her:

– “Don’t try!”

Barata, nascido Luiz Carlos, no dia do Anti-Natal do ano da Graça do nascimento de Bruce Dickinson, Madonna, Michael Jackson, Cazuza e Tim Burton, é poeta, romancista, ensaista e contista, além de produtor de eventos e artista plástico. Cresceu escutando Beatles, Black Sabbath, Rush e Pink Floyd. Participou da geração mimeógrafo nos anos 1970, mas quando chegaram os filhos deixou de ser poeta e foi tentar ser homem, o que no entender de Bukowski é bem mais difícil. Trabalhou como office-boy, bancário e projetista de brinquedos. Apesar de ter escrito milhares de textos nunca ganhou um prêmio literário. Foi apaixonado por Janis Joplin, Grace Slick  e Patti Smith; casou quatro vezes e Atualmente procura pagar as contas trabalhando com criação de sites, edição e diagramação de livros e arte digital.

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