Blue Bird

by: Charles Bukowski

There's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.

There's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's in there.

There's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess me up?
You want to screw up the works?
You want to blow my book sales in Europe?

There's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.

Then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die,
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact,
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?