Charles Bukowski: huh?

huh?

in
Germany France Italy
I can walk down the streets and be
followed by
young men laughing
young ladies
giggling and
old 
ladies turning their noses
up. . .

while
in America
I am just another
tired
old man
doing whatever
tired old men
do.

oh, this has its
compensations:
I can take my pants
to the cleaners or
stand in a 
supermarket line
without any
hubbub at
all:
the gods have allowed me
a gentle
anonymity.

yet
at times
I do consider my
overseas fame
and
the only thing
I can come up with is
that
I must have some
great motherfucking
translators.

I must
owe them
the hair on my 
balls
or 
possibly

my balls

themselves.