jazzmen played it out raw
on sticks and bones,
whilst light probed
smoke flavored room,
sat in illustration pose
talking to barkeep,
ivory gown caught
moonlight glimmers,
wanting to touch, to feel
contours and indentations,
he knew it would take
more than bootleg whiskey,
tongue had edge that
made words sharper
than meant to be,
gentle approach,
jaguar on leaf littered jungle
warmed by sun,
moved in steps both wary
and purposeful,
a hand upon her side not swiped
away but held a moment
then squoze in a way that
reasoned back off,
barkeep moved,
ballet of moves occurred,
caught eyes in reflection,
a brown that suggested openings
to a deeper soul than he had
known before and gave nothing
away,
questioning now his own purpose,
she turned face to face,
it made him waver,
pearls sat upon cleavage that ached
for his tongue,
aware this thought lingered,
she smiled sarcastically,
despite the night
a dawn apparent came over
him,
she was untouchable one so
beautiful he would never
possess,
lonely retreat defeated in battle
nodding in acknowledgement ,
stepped away
taking a glass from a passing tray,
hand trembling.
sounds like you had a brush with greatness…an almost but not quite….some nice touches in this as well…
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