Delilah

"Is a man's strength his hair? Is a strand of hair an invisible muscle?"

His mane is a wicked tendency; being human is a trivia. Often I manipulate the brass reflection to thwart curious young women; we both mute insecurity of falling apart before our suitor's skeletal trance. His prance is a mad Arabian horse this long unbearable night of ivory clad virginity. I watch on guard wearing my usual solemn face; my laughter is evil amongst astrologically accentuated crystal roofed domes.

"Shall I call you a new name?"

"What might that be since my hair is driving me mad tonight with questions I hope to end as the ball we attend."

"I will call you Samson."

"I like the name but it brings me no such relief for my protein isolated reigns fall from the saddle once again."

Underneath our balcony of discussion I felt a despair touching the walls of jeweled tiles; a child found a treasure only for a short while.

"I am beckoned to the floor below."

"Be it so but please do return with my Beau as I am immobilized by drama. While you seduce her with my faint description as a favor unto me I wish from our milk genie a glass of linen soaked in plum wine."

One of our many innuendos we never divulge unless absolutely necessary yet even so we will twist mummified stories.

Saliva is a mystery.

"Sir........who is the man you speak with."

Her eyes blaze darkness, likes of which a hunter lights his torch with alcohol rather than kerosene; this night is bizarre beyond benevolent impish charms.

"He is Samson and who might you be?"

She is unlike most young women I do admit tracing a perishing thought receding into a membrane sparking gray matter with soot.

"You may call me Delilah but please do not tell the man."

As polite gesture amongst impolite hallways, I excuse myself to search for the handsome woman my companion desires. I the messenger of drama carry my long face yet I am followed by a peculiar notion.

"Sir whom do you search?"

"Signora I search for his Beau."

"The man you call Samson?"

"Yes......."

"She is found only by me."

Startled by her impenetrable stance I am not one to walk past youth; I can recall many moments of those who forgot me.

"What ever do you mean girl?"

"If I was a woman you would not call me a girl."

"If you were a woman you would still be a girl."

"Sir are you angry with me?"

"I am perturbed by the situation we all are astounded."

"So am I........"

Warm numbers entangle my five cold spider legs; a retort of remarkable remarks vibrates off a virgin tongue.

"Your hand is ice. You must be made of ice."

Tears fall a rocky waterfall edge; cracking seams hide an endless stream.

"If I am do you tell a soul?"

"There are no souls in this place. I tell only myself just this once and I will forget as I can see you are a man."

"Where do you take me?"

"You know where I take you."

"If I knew of such would I ask?"

"I believe you would just to avoid my final question."

"Please go ahead as I can see there is no escape."

"Will the man ever look at me as he does the handsome woman with the Garnet heart?"

Senses fail me; senses beget worry as I deeply consume my own flame inside to breathe words I now feel obligation to explain in detail but cannot.

"He will look at you tonight the way he looks at the Garnet heart without the handsome woman."

She does not acknowledge my voice for this statement; her glide attracts young men of brilliance even still she approaches Samson. He is surprised by her motion finding his arms wound inside the gears of a clock; her hands continue to tick. Realizing his shock for her unusual warmth, I assure her body's intermission with a glance.

Maybe I should not leave them; her inquiry is for him, I am no teacher for her schooling this semester.

I continue my search for a missing suitor; I rely upon a third eye as guidance into bizarre oval shaped corridor, there is a found woman folding one arm, another churns a bloodless color of crimson jewel precious for Egyptian maidens.

"Natassja please do come........it is he."

"What of him? Is it he that calls for me or is it you that worries for him?"

"Must you be so intelligent this moment."

"As every other moment with you requires my dumbfounded reply so you may come to go as you please this moment I will not pretend. Tell me what force brings you here?"

"You are the force and he needs your physical presence as a hurricane."

"If I am his hurricane will he sway as a firmly planted palm for me to entice?"

"As long as you do not pull him from the ground he exists."

"If I do he might enjoy the ride."

"Please spare me your wit at this moment. I need you to come dumbfounded; while you enter his aura will you act as though you did not see me with worry?"

"You ask much of me this moment and for the next moment I will ask much of you. Will you give this garnet to the young woman you spoke with?"

"How did you know?"

"I told her to speak with you. She is in love of sorts; still not sure who or what however this heart will be enough for a girl. When she is a woman this will be jewelry to embellish and then she may wonder who or what took her astray."

His fallen beads of a gypsy's belly delight sparkle upon her arrival; her breeze encounters a palm leaf sprung forth greeting her every movement as sensual fruit.

"This is for you......Delilah."

"Sir this comes from the neck which Samson kisses?"

"Yes......"

"My neck will adorn Samson's lips."

"No......."

"What am I to do with a heart?"

"You will wear it on your chest instead of in your mind."

"He delights of her as an explorer upon a splendid discovery."

"Yes......"

"Corks of wine bottles do not explode."

"No it is champagne which tingles the wood of a cork."

"Maybe it is the tickling sensation."

"The champagne cannot hold it's excitement."

"The same for him to his mistress?"

"Yes the same."

"I feel of much understanding now; I will return to the other young women as you wish me well. I can see you are concerned for my youth and how I may fall into emotions which you see as reaching mature. I wonder if you understand me. I will always wonder this even as I walk away you will still watch me just to make sure I arrive at my destination without trouble. You are a sentinel for a guardian but this once will you please look away?"

"No....."

"I accept your disapproval."

"I accept your youth."

Her prettiness is the charisma of a priest lacking a book to address inspiration; she is darkness a bat cannot venture without a cave.

"She surprised me........I am lacking of words. All I can say is that I lack of words."

"You also lack of some hair."

"What?"

Looking at his right shoulder above a curved trembling torso previously admired by a gracious Garnet's fingertips is a strip of rectangular homage we both missed; lilacs from the virgin field snipped his strength.