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  • Flamenco.

    An old guitar, scuffed with age
    Toned by a hundred melodies
    Work torn fingers reach for the strings
    He begins to play
    Monotone of memories, rising
    Base notes, heavy with sadness
    climb and fall in the cigarette haze
    Heat, sweat and circling flies
    Old men nod their understanding
    Over glasses of raw red wine
    She enters from the small curtains
    Strong of thigh, broad hipped, high breasted
    Gypsy eyed. Scornful of any approach
    Sensuality untamed, untameable
    I am woman,
    Single tap of steel on stone
    Joined by a counterpoint
    Of knuckle beats on table boards
    Fevered eyes, leaking tears
    Dribble lust on stubble chins
    Recalling dead erections
    Twisting faster now
    Arms extended she dances
    To orgasmic clapping
    Her dress lifting, a flash of red underskirt
    It is over, she pauses
    Then dismissing us with a toss of her head
    and vanishes into memory.