"question and answer"

 he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
 night, running the blade of the knife
 under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
 of all the letters he had received
 telling him that
 the way he lived and wrote about
 that--
 it had kept them going when
 all seemed
 truly
 hopeless.

 putting the blade on the table, he
 flicked it with a finger
 and it whirled
 in a flashing circle
 under the light.

 who the hell is going to save                                
 me? he
 thought.

 as the knife stopped spinning
 the answer came:
 you're going to have to
 save yourself.

 still smiling,
 a: he lit a
 cigarette
 b: he poured
 another
 drink
 c: gave the blade
 another
 spin.

--from The Last Night of the Earth Poems

-Bukowski