this had to be a carlsberg moment
in supermarker shopping,
   just went in for a litre of ***...
huh?
   who's at the check-out?
   i've never seen her before...
       a red blouse,
tight black trousers...
blonde hair, blue eyes...
                  and the blouse?
   let's just say i managed a sneak
peak at heaven...
      and god, that essex accent
that almost east london *** worker
type...
  and she was playing the blonde
***** role...
  oh i don't know how to take off
the security locker on the bottle...
oh i don't know how to work the till...
oh i don't know how to scan the barcode...
time?
            plenty!
                        the image of those
gorgeous tear-jerkers made my night...
the grand canyon can **** itself...
this was the mother of all clefts...
over 20 years in england,
    and not once have i slept with an english
girl... australia, russian,
   thai, french... bulgarian...
                                       afro-saxon...
i'm going to die being constantly
fascinated by english women...
      which is not a bad thing, to be honest...
i think she noticed that i chose
eye contact to be south of her chin -
but **** me, wearing that sort of
open chested blouse that allows
the breast cleft a little cameo moment in
your daily routine?
and **** me, she even wished me
a pleasant evening...
               come to think of it -
   that tiny mole on her left breast was
like a bulls-eye for my eyes...
          honestly, i hope i'll see her again...
and if you ever wondered...
   the completely naked body isn't
actually ******...
          the supreme eroticism is that of
showing accents of flesh,
       the cleft of *******? no. 1
  the collar bone outline including
a woman's neck? no. 2.
         hands... hands hands hands! no. 3...
tennis attire are the best at exfoliating
these features...
                 and as the advert slogan
goes:
          if this was
  the best shopping experience
(and it was), i still wouldn't be buying
a six-pack of carslberg...
        seeing such wonders, you'd go
for something stronger,
      but if carslberg employed
supermarket cashiers...
let's just call this 'un
        a carslbergesque moment.