Transformation of Charles Bukowski Poem- the Lisp

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The Lisp- Transformation The late afternoon summer sun dappled through the wide glass windows and fell in golden rays on to the bowed heads of 30 young people as they sat at their desk, the clock chiming the hour of the late June day in 1940. Their eyes, all 30 pairs, were trained on the woman sat on her desk at the front of class provocatively, knee length skirt hitched around her tights to reveal an expanse of long, sun-kissed golden leg as she talked at length about the effects of simile. “Can anyone give me an example of a simile?” The teacher asked, her lisp subtly adding an almost childish innocence to her sexy melodic voice. Bukowski sighed heavily as she ran her long, slim fingers through her honey curls, inhaling the sweet scent of strawberry. “Her legs were like a coke bottle, long and shapely. Miss.” Bukowski added the latter part shyly, his cheeks flooding red as his fellow students laughed raucously. Some tried to hide their amusement, covering their mouths with their stubby childish fingers, but what did he care? They were insignificant, immature children. He watched shyly from beneath his long fringe as she laughed demurely, her lustrous curls bouncing with the movement. “That’s wonderful Charles.” She said, tucking her loose waves behind her ear and her golden wedding band was a-glow in the suns rays, winking at him as a reminder that she would never be his; that she had given her very heart and soul to another man. He emitted an in inaudible noise as yet another piece of scrunched paper hit the back of his head, and he bent to pick it up, smoothing out the creases to be faced with another primitive drawing of himself and Mrs Anderson, a thick jagged heart encircling the embracing ‘lovers’. He scrunched it back up and dropped it to the floor, retrieving his pencil as the words flowed from an inner-well of emotion, his hand flying over the

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