"wherof one cannot speak, therof one must remain silent"
I love to bike through alleys at night, catching the moon's reflection off crack bound flowers, peeling paint and rust altars. The sound of a woman's breath, like sitting with eyes barely closed listening to wind, the feel of it on your face. Laughter in the morning, the awakening of senses, falling back to sleep. dust to dust
It would start with an awkward step to the left, then a swing to the right, shake your hips to the beat and then take a break to re-hydrate. Now step to the right and swing to the left, put your hand on my hip and we'll dip, then the break kicks in and we each get down individually till we high five at the drop of the chorus. Do the rock-away: lean back, lean back...
(a metaphor, it is highly unlikely I'd ever dance on a first date, not that I can't, I just save that for what I call "the comfort zone" ie. dates 27-844)
I would like to offer a mid-qualilty jar of store bought spaghetti sauce to prospective date-ees (sp?).