those mornings by Charles Bukowski
I still remember those New Orleans rats
out on the balcony railings
in the dark of early morning
as I stood waiting my turn at the
crapper.
there were always two or three
big ones
just sitting there-sometimes they'd
move quickly then
stop and sit there.
I looked at them and they looked at
me.
they showed no fear.

at last the crapper door would open
and out would walk
one of the tenants
and he always looked worse than
the rats
and then he'd be gone
down the hallway
and I'd og into the still-
stinking crapper
with my hangover.

and almost always
when I came out
the rats would be gone.
as soon as it got a little ligth
they would
vanish.

and then
the world would be
mine,
I'd walks down the stairway
and into it
and my low-wage
pitiful
job
while remembering the
rats,
how it was better for them
than for
me.

I walked to work as the sun
came up hot
and the whores slept
like
babies.

(The Last Night of the Earth Poems)