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Click hereThis city may kill me yet.
So much freedom in the curves,
I want to die
and be reborn in Cuba.
Clutching the plastic
handle on my shopping cart
I try desperately not to reach out
but I want to.
The world is a Rumba
and the women around
me hear the rhythm.
It is in their walk,
in the curve of their hips as they stand in line.
To confine such beauty would be a sin.
I rejoice
in clothing
tight
on lush bodies,
the braless sway of a full breast.
Oh the bellies,
the hips,
the thighs.
I want to reach out
and caress these women
who are unafraid of who they are
I want to shove them into my mouth
and suck on the sweetness
of elbows,
and fingers,
the damp napes of necks.
I want to consume in them this tropical
feminine heat.
I want to find such courage in myself
and join them.
I listen
and find
that slow
underlying
beat.
" The world moves on a womans hips
the world moves and it swivels and bops'
it reminded me of your verse:
~The world is a Rumba
and the women around
me hear the rhythm.~
I've seen this too
very nicely captured