I don't know why
but we began dancing in the garage.

Tiptoes trembling ::: buzzing :::
like quivering flower buds.
Bodies in flames
like ancient plumes with hearts.

- Our egos hanging at the wall -

Spirits soaring to imaginary lands
with drums, flutes and gypsy guitars.
Abdomens vibrating in a serenade of flights
we give thanks for our delight!

Hearts multiply
in the sweat of perfect rivulets.
We give thanks for the moist, palpitating
rush of blood.

 © Minerva T. Bloom

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