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Learning History in Nursery School
This is a good poem, but you duplicated the title from yesterday. ... I think this should be flyspot 1::13?flyguy69 said:Fly 1:12
I slapped her
with a question so hard it caught
both of us with our pants down.
A bright smack that pinked
her cheeks and shocked
my eyes wide. Like bumping the light switch
while petting. I haven’t seen you
since before the divorce, how’ve you been?I’ve been good. You know,Yeah, ha ha. We should get them together.
busy. With the kids.Oh, they’d love it.She’s holding a plastic video box
with both hands, fingers laced
like a fence. I’ve got one, too. The titles don’t change
under pressure, but a question bursts
between us. Do you want to go out,
I mean, get coffee and talk? Her teeth
are so white it hurts my heart
to look at them.Yes, yes
I do.
I, ahh, I guess I was nervous.champagne1982 said:This is a good poem, but you duplicated the title from yesterday. ... I think this should be flyspot 1::13?
No?
Liar said:baby i'm too funk to druck
my legs as wobbly as my aim
whatever my preposterous
claim early morning
so if you don't tip the scale
with an unattended pout
and let me drift to la-la land
on your belly
today was a good one
a once in a while revolution
around the sun
clutching_calliope said:To get above 10 I need to remove my shoes. Thank you for the correction.
tristesse said:I’m looking at a photograph
and the scent of you
overwhelms me,
clove and jasmine,
the slow burn of sex.
Images crowd the dark inside
of my closed eye lids,
the sweet curve of your neck,
the angle of your jaw,
and, when you stand,
the hollow formed below
your hips outside
each muscled cheek,
your honey tinted flesh
begging to be licked.
You’re not here now
but I see you
as if we shared a shell,
as if our breath melded,
our legs twined. and our hearts
beat to the same rhythm.
My fingers have the memory
of soft chest hair
and corded muscle,
of sweat sheen and heat
in unexpected places.
I know! I know! It's the legal drinking age in the US .TheRainMan said:What's 11 + 10?
Can I remove the shoes? . . . you can worry what to take off next later. . .