caress

I feel it… synesthestetically overwhelming. Spice and heat and bracelets clinking on the delicate wrists of a woman. Hot pavement, bare feet stepping fast in the sun through a crowded noisy bazaar. A sweet enticing oriental temptation to craziness. A rhythm that flows like Ravel’s bolero. Haunting sounds of drums as someone’s gasping for air…more and more and more. Unexpectedly it triggered to my mind the image of your red and shining blue kimono. How you smoothly let it fall down your arms. And that finger pressed to your red lips…shhhhhh. It’s the drum effect I guess. Those shamanic-like rhythms that interfere and overlap bouncing me back and forth into the geometry of sounds. The sounds of picked chords blended into the hiss of a sword… melding into a short and intense slow-motion focus of your fingers touching a hand… delicately unbearably tender.