Dear Editor by Charles Bukowski

remember when you
bought me that
big rebuilt standard
typewriter
when I was living on air
and beer
over at that place
on DeLongpre?

and I tried it
out
and phoned you that
night
drunk
complaining that it
jumped an extra space
when I hit an “e” or
a “u”?

well, I’ve just
ordered a $700
IBM electric
with my gold
American Express
card.

it has an automatic
error-eraser
among its many other
features.

I’m going to hell
so fast
you’d never believe
it.

I might have to
forget expensive German wine
and go back to beer
in order to find
myself
again.

meanwhile, I
await
delivery.