Here you will find the Poem magical mystery tour of poet Charles Bukowski
I am in this low-slung sports car painted a deep, rich yellow driving under an Italian sun. I have a British accent. I'm wearing dark shades an expensive silk shirt. there's no dirt under my fingernails. the radio plays Vivaldi and there are two women with me one with raven hair the other a blonde. they have small breasts and beautiful legs and they laugh at everything I say. as we drive up a steep road the blonde squeezes my leg and nestles closer while raven hair leans across and nibbles my ear. we stop for lunch at a quaint rustic inn. there is more laughter before lunch during lunch and after lunch. after lunch we will have a flat tire on the other side of the mountain and the blonde will change the tire while raven hair photographs me lighting my pipe leaning against a tree the perfect background perfectly at peace with sunlight flowers clouds birds everywhere.