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 cam

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 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.