Dry mouth
chapped lips
fingers twitching to the beat
of base and drum
electronic arpeggios
inundate thoughts
Imagine her in her skirt
dancing to the beat
hips accentuating motion
as her body follows closely
like an enchanter
seer of visions
hair over her face
sweat pouring down her back
bare feet
The dust of the evening
seldom settles
Short stories, poems, among other play things. A constant work in progress. Forever changing.
No comments:
Post a Comment