Rejuvenate
By Claudia Moss
Copyright 2010
119 words
Idalia basked in Charlotte Amalie sun, gazing at the suited woman leaving the condo on the end, where the iguanas grouped. On a table behind her, a fat folder waited. There was much to do before evening fell island soft.
“If I painted, I’d paint this place inside shuttered windows.” A couple shifted, the delicate one smiling at Idalia. Sushi dotted the beach bar counter. “Windows are my forte!” came before her partner frowned. “Your gallery opens next week.”
A month later, a tourist photographed an iguana savoring a banana inside a Ferragamo shoe. Talk speculated. Maybe the artist had a husband. Maybe they’d met a duppie. Stateside, a new widow moaned and passed Idalia a thick, damp envelope.
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Monday, December 27, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Enamored Beneath my Locs...
I am enamored.
I am enamored at the thought of her name.
I am enamored at the sound of her voice, at any text she might send.
I am enamored under the scrutiny of her stare.
I am so enamored.
I am enamored when I study her visage, clearly lost in the shape of her lips.
I am enamored in the way I stride, my eyes whispering the lingo of the sway in my hips.
I am enamored at the softness of her touch.
I am enamored and I don't particularly care who knows as much.
I am enamored beneath my locs.
I am enamored at my fingertips' urge to record her dimensions.
I am enamored and she has no conception of my perplexity.
I am simply wetly enamored and I don't know how to proceed but I know The Way is Present.
I am enamored and watching her eclipses these ruminations.
TheGoldenGoddess
I am enamored at the thought of her name.
I am enamored at the sound of her voice, at any text she might send.
I am enamored under the scrutiny of her stare.
I am so enamored.
I am enamored when I study her visage, clearly lost in the shape of her lips.
I am enamored in the way I stride, my eyes whispering the lingo of the sway in my hips.
I am enamored at the softness of her touch.
I am enamored and I don't particularly care who knows as much.
I am enamored beneath my locs.
I am enamored at my fingertips' urge to record her dimensions.
I am enamored and she has no conception of my perplexity.
I am simply wetly enamored and I don't know how to proceed but I know The Way is Present.
I am enamored and watching her eclipses these ruminations.
TheGoldenGoddess
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