lightning storm watching dancers in a nightclub

a chorus of piano, trumpet and timbale laughter
breaks and rolls free at the feet of the multitude, in a building of two stories
sitting squat under the lightning storm
flashing her bright blue eyes by the windows
hitting up high
the double accents of the congas
her taunt, white impatience
and makes thick
the night air
cool rain running
down the open arms of the city
she holds her head bowed and covered by the curtain of her black hair
swayed by a slow and heady summer breeze
sighing a soft insistent
along the descent
to the pavement
to the skin

© lyw