Ben Newell

there would be hell out this window2 51308

“There would be hell out this window” by Aleathia Drehmer

five miles in flip-flops 

It’s no fun
waking up
in a strange bed
with
a strange woman,
hangover exacerbated
by
the utter unfamiliarity
of your surroundings.
You
don’t know
where you are
in relation to the bar;
her cats
dash into hiding
as
you approach the window,
staring at cars
on the street;
no luck,
yours isn’t there—
You vaguely recall
riding shotgun
as she whisked you
back to her lair,
this place
now
encasing you;
hog slaughter snores
slashing off
the walls,
saying it’s time
to cut out
for the city,
a real goddamned city
with better options
or, at the very least,
a decent
transit system.

For more information about Aleathia Drehmer

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Ben Newell

bike in grass by seth elkins
                          Untitled by Seth Elkins


swiss miss

In Zurich,
they provide prostitutes
with slots,
little safe havens
in
which
to conduct their business;
it’s like
a coin-op carwash
and/or
fast food drive-thru,
maintained
and monitored
for
cleanliness and safety,
a win-win
for both parties—

While
my western ass
sweats it out
in a Motel 6 parking lot,
wondering if the prostitute
behind the blue door
is legit
or
a decoy
luring me
where the authorities await
with truncheons
and electroshock weapons
engineered
to fry
my
central nervous system.

It shouldn’t be this hard
to buy sex
in a world power
like ours;
we call ourselves
the greatest nation
on earth
even though
our watches are slow
and
the chocolate
weak

For more about Seth Elkins