by Charles Bukowski

And the windows opened that night,
A ceiling dripped the sweat
Of a tin god, 
And I sat eating a watermelon
All false red,
Water like slow-running 
And I spit out seeds
And swallowed seeds,
And I kept thinking
I'm a fool
I'm a fool
To eat this Watermelon,
But I kept eating 

As featured on
The Daily Gardener podcast:

Words inspired by the garden are the sweetest, most beautiful words of all.
Charles Bukowski

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