Beach Ballad

When she crossed her legs, electric silk slipped over thigh orientated beguilements. Her shoulders were disrespectful. The massed pipes and drums of her braided hair played upon my mind. I was alone for a thousand years drinking her in. I wanted to ask her but what? Besides it was then she looked my way with a cool ‘muck-you’ stare. Back at the hotel, my reflected sun-slapped face, seemed as unstable as sand, yet the syllabary of her thighs had so much more to say to me.