Charles Bukowski's Slut....I Poem by James McLain

Watching Bukowski's moves
never leave me more than a bottle of beer
half full.
He took a hold of her left hand
and guided her right, looking past me.

Giving me instead that knowing glance
as she did as I thought so.
I could hear the clicking of her high heels
on the linoleum floor as they rounded the corner
and disappeared outside.

Bukowski leaving me at the bar I asked,
where they were going
and gone and she said that Bukowski
had taken the slut outside to show her
the beer garden.

I laughed and Bukowski said,
she’ll see more than the garden,
again they both laughed.

She then pulled her panties aside
and pissed
while I was chatting to Bukowski
about her saying
what a good looking piece of blubber she was
and that they hoped
she would give them all a good mucking.

I called out to Bukowski
him saying,
what I thought she would say to that.

About ten minutes later
she came after Bukowski left
It was then
that she told me
how she became a slut as I drove her home.