the girl on the bus stop bench
I saw her when I was in the left lane
going east on Sunset.
she was sitting
with her legs crossed
reading a paperback.
she was Italian or Indian or
Greek
and I was stopped at a red signal
as now and then a wind
would lift her skirt,
I was directly across from her
looking in,
and such perfect immaculate legs
I had never seen.
I am essentially bashful
but I stared and kept staring
until the person in the car behind
me honked.
it had never happened quite like that
before.
I drove around the block
and parked in the supermarket
lot
directly across from her
in my dark shades
I kept staring
like a schoolboy in his first
excitement.
I memorized her shoes
her dress
her stockings
her face.
cars came by and blocked my
view.
then I saw her again.
the wind flipped her skirt
high along her thighs
and I began rubbing myself.
just before her bus came
I climaxed.
I smelled my sperm
felt it wet against my shorts
and pants.
it was an ugly white bus
and it took her away.
I backed out of the parking lot
thinking, I’m a peep-freak
but at least I didn’t expose
myself.
I’m a peep-freak
but why do they do that?
why do they look like that?
why do they let the wind do
that?
when I got home
I undressed and bathed
got out
toweled
turned on
the news
turned off the news
and
wrote this poem.
Autres oeuvres par Charles Bukowski...
