Wednesday, December 06, 2006
58 Ledge
I’m lying in bed with my legs open.
You perch your hand
inside my thigh.
Nothing sexual about it.
It’s just a good place to put your hand.
Next: Train Car
A tale of love, madness, coffee, and dependence in the form of 75 poems.
I’m lying in bed with my legs open.
You perch your hand
inside my thigh.
Nothing sexual about it.
It’s just a good place to put your hand.
Next: Train Car