Legs by Benjamin Horter
I was on my third beer when I met her. I don’t remember her name or her face for that matter. But I remember those legs. She made it a point to make sure that anyone who saw them remembered them. It’s quite possible that she owned shorter skirts than that, but I doubt it. I was on my third beer, but by the way she was talking she was on her fifth or sixth.
She introduced herself by saying “Who are you?” and it’s that kind of forwardness that made her interesting. (read on…)
Comments (5)Poetry by Christian Scholer
Don’t Forget to Breathe
There you are. Inhale.
You pass me to get a drink.
Smile. Exhale.
On the way back you brush
your hand across my hip.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale again.
Pretend you didn’t notice that.