a poem for swingers, a poem for the playgirls of the universe

By Charles Bukowski

I like women who haven’t lived with too many men.

I don’t expect virginity but I simply prefer women

who haven’t been rubbed raw by experience.
there is a quality about women who choose

men sparingly;

it appears in their walk

in their eyes

in their laughter and in their

gentle hearts.

women who have had too many men

seem to choose the next one

out of revenge rather than with

feeling.

when you play the field selfishly everything

works against you:

one can’t insist on love or

demand affection.

you’re finally left with whatever

you have been willing to give

which often is:

nothing.
some women are delicate things

some women are delicious and

wondrous.
if you want to piss on the sun

go ahead

but please leave them

alone.