Lilacs (Don't fuck with them.)

The Angels beat the Red Sox again, 10-7, and it's a 3 game losing streak …

Bill:
Swept by the Angels, 2 games back of the Spankees and falling, pitching rotation in shambles, bullpen faltering …

 

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Susan:
Hey, double chin up, dude. Last June the club had a 5 game death march and still made October bright, right?.

 

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Bill:
Yeah, last year … fercrissakes Francona is reminding me of last year more and more … Bringing Pedro out in the 6th? What the fuck?

 

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Susan:
I'm not going to defend Terry Franconia Crotch, still, the dude's working with a pitching staff 60% full of pitchers who can't get out of the 6th?

 

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Bill:
Oh, you're doing a fine fucking job cheering my ass up here.

 

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Susan:
Look, Bill, you can't get freaked out over these rough patches. You need to buck up. Or at least shut up. [Laughs]

 

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Bill:
Ah, Red Sox … I've practiced death for so long and still I've not learned it …

 

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Susan:
Think of the lilacs … the dripping lilacs, blue petals battered, holding on, holding their brightness in hot steamy air as if to become brighter …

 

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Bill:
Lilacs? Are you fucking smoking the hydro again? Actually, it's a fitting metaphor, as didn't the ancient ones use lilacs to cover the stench of death?

 

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Susan:
Don't fuck with the lilacs, dude. [Laughs]

 

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Author's Notes
Bill's practicing death speech is the opening line in Bukowski's poem "I thought of ships and armies hanging on", while Circle's lilac speech is from the Lyn Lifshin (a Bukowski contemporary) poem "You Take For Granted."

Comments

[Ian (a.k.a. Bergs at RSN)]

man, I already loved the site, and now you have Bukowski verse twice in a week? Fan-fucking-tastic...

[h.b.]

Thanks!

Yeah, Bukowski, especially his early stuff, just seems to lend itself to Sox fans. His poetry is paradoxically fatalistic yet hopeful at the same time.