she dances,
undulating like a silk scarf in soft wind
her hips 
sway in sumptous rhythm like samba
her body 
writhes over a canvas of wildflower
traced by a convulsing painter's brush
watch her limbs now float and sail, 
graceful as a snake charmed senseless
on its sacred wandering space 
they beckon, 
like her lips served in sweet dessert
 
the night leaves nothing to chance
our flesh cavort in urgent beat
primeval 
like the throbbing of hearts in a womb
i find her eyes in the sea of humanity
they burrow into a delicious spot in my chest
i feel her deliver its shiver up my sweating spine
and she hears her name
in the silent whisper of my smile 
even as i get buried in the crowd
all i hear is her laughter 
in the midst of swirling shadows and seizing lights
and it leaves me in drunken longing.
 
i am but the helpless, hopeless audience of one
she is a shade short
of the greatest show on the dance floor
and a heartbeat too much
for my worshiping cup to hold.
 
when she dances, i am alive.