About Coffee Legs

He paced in the shadows of the kitchen.

I sat on the bar stool chair that was given to him by a former professor.

"Just a gift" he had said, "Just a gift."

Him, clearly mad.

Me, feeling not too bad.

He talked. I listened.

Our gaze was distracted as I slowly looked down

A sliver of warm sunlight cross contouring my thighs

How fascinating the light of the sun's caress

This brown in my skin is truly a gift.

I thought "This is something he will never understand."