I.E.D., Poetry by Frank Bukowski

Genre: Funny, Sexy, Society.

I.E.D.
by Frank Bukowski

It started out like any other day
We were just going about our business
It was my lunch break
I needed a few things from Sainsbury’s
As I parked and got out the car
The sliding doors to the supermarket opened
There was a blinding flash and a bang
The world seemed to turn upside down
And this tall blonde woman emerged
Dazzling as the sun
She had on this short one-piece dress, belted at the waist
So red you could see it from the moon
They say when time began
You could fit all the matter in the universe on a pinhead
It didn’t seem possible to pack that much beauty into a single being
Scientists had theorised it was possible
But nobody had ever seen it, until today
She looked like an air hostess, a beauty queen
A film star all rolled into one
The dress hugged her so tight she must have been born in it
As she walked across that car park
Every guy within a hundred yards stopped dead, and stared
Like zombies in a movie
As though a bomb had gone off
As though god had ripped open the sky and pointed down
Her legs had enough thigh and calf
To kill half a dozen men
Even the way she carried her shopping looked dangerous
Bags swishing and swaying with poise, with elegance
Her eyes were like Kalashnikovs, her lips an AK47
Spraying lead all over the car park
Each graceful high-heeled stride of her long tanned legs
A slug to the stomach, a round in the shoulder
Spinning us like tops
As she walked on her dizzy heels everything jiggled
Her breasts, her ass, her shopping, her ear-rings
The ringlets in her blonde hair
Twenty pairs of eyes following every step
Connected to her limbs by an invisible thread
Then she was at the hatchback
Putting down her bags
Goddam she even made bending look sexy
When the back was open
She bent down again to pick up the shopping
Then leant forward to pack it in the car
Stretching up to close the door
Each movement pulled that skin-tight red dress
Across some different part of her body
Drawing us pictures of what lay beneath
Those swollen breasts that were booby traps for the soul
Her ass a lethal pack of dynamite
Crammed into a red parcel bomb
Packed tight and primed to explode
When she bent down, shrapnel pierced our eyes
When she reached up
Killing shards of metal sliced into our hearts
When she climbed in the car
A lethal flash of thigh radiated out
Concussing us, traumatising our brains
Turning us into idiots
No one escaped that day
Every man was scarred in his own way
She didn’t distinguish between civilians
There were teachers in that car park
Old guys, young guys, middle aged guys
Married men, pensioners, vicars
Off duty policemen, social workers
Kids barely out of short trousers
The body armour of their innocence scant protection
Against the terrible stopping power concealed in that red dress
She took us all down, everything in her path
Nothing or no one escaped
We were just the wrong guys
In the wrong place, at the wrong time
We went into that car park as men, and came out lunatics
Then she was belting herself in, reversing out
Turning the wheel, driving off
When she left the car park
When the debris had all rained down
When the dust had settled and the smoke cleared
Someone shouted, ‘man down!’

http://www.frankbukowski.com/

    * * * * *

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