After The Dance.

Guitar strings pop against his fingers, 

the rhythmic percussion vibrating through its cowhide lid

Big bass smooth as the crushed red velvet rope,

intertwining your soul and mine beyond a lifetime.

Butterflies rolled up in my belly,

flowing and fluttering faster than a jet black Mustang

pounding its hooves in the dirt at 75 miles a hour.

my tight Temple curls fallen to waves from the salty sweat

kissing my peanut cocoa skin all over. 

Your five fingered fans caress my silhouette

tracing up and down my hips like a crayon 

desperate to fill in the lines with its effervescent color. 

The  'Maican 'cita on the mic , a voice as light as orange creamsicle clouds

floating in the pink and purple skies above

builds each note as high as the tensely ignited flame 

burning between us two.

and then, in a sudden, it's all over.

the lights are dimming.

we began to fade into the background

until all that remains is our shadows and dance shoe imprints.

before we depart, our gaze magnifies into our inner beings,

relaying a unspoken message to meet on the floor once more soon

to continue writing our spicy scene after the dance.....