there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
a space
and even during the
best moments
and
the greatest
times
we will know it
we will know it
more than ever
there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
and
we will wait
and
wait
in that
space.
it's ours
there is always that space there
just before they get to us
that space
that fine relaxer
the breather
while say
flopping on the bed
thinking of nothing
or say
pouring a glass of water from the
spigot
while entranced by
nothing
that
gentle pure
space
it's worth
centuries of
existence
say
just to scratch your neck
while looking out the window at
a bare branch
that space
there
before they get to us
ensures
that
when they do
they won't
get it all
ever.

Bukowski, Charles. You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense. Santa Rosa, CA: Black Sparrow Press, 1986.

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