pull on some skimpy
lace,
slink into a silk skirt
slit up your thigh.
Doesn't your blood ache
to be pressed against
a hard thigh, a
petroglyph of the night.
Liquid and silky
interpreting the music
with his whole body.
For now the whole world
is his body. When he
lets you come into
his hips, the passwords,
the escape. What can you
say about tango that
you can't say about sex?
