Night Shoes
dance …
dance, the dragon
I watch intently, as if it taunts me
your perfect calf, its tattooed home
gams surround you on the
dance floor like a forest of velvet flesh
hopping, darting, spinning …
the small hummingbird on your
other ankle flutters -
as if in a constant bid to
escape the fire-breathing specter that
clings fiercely to the gentle slope
of your opposite foreleg
golden eyes afire …
I sit this one out
but I'm enthralled by your solo -
unconcerned with the
crowd of couples about you
your slender arms meet like swan necks
entwining in a love rite ...
hips in a forth-and-back cadence -
hypnotizing me as your
ruffled hem swishes … swishes … swishes …
curvilinear body alive with
spicy voltaic motion -
eyes closed to the pounding
prismatic pulse of colored lights and
seething subwoofers …
you move slowly ...
tender and deliberate
yet intense …
innately sensual, though you are unaware
your naive charm and innocence
are the blades that slay me
all the while the dragon chases …
the bird bounces and flits …
and I sip my Milagro Select like a
long-forgotten lover -
dreaming of the perfectly plump
pink-painted piggies ...
wriggling playfully inside ...
your favorite night shoes.
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