"What do you suppose they suppose as they impose upon us?'
Such words strike me as a gentle hand caresses my nervous abdomen sufficing guilt for a parade we knowingly participate shines upon a crease. An answer is another inquisitive nature unable to explore; this ballroom surrounds us, we are inside man made hellish glory.
"I suppose we will know when we impose."
Lotus smoke mystifies a crowd; he beckons chocolate of bloody boundaries to break open as a tampered flood gate, the dam is cracked.
"If we impose we will never return to this life we know."
"If we do not impose we will never live."
Black is the shade of shadows we dance as walls subtract our silhouettes. Rooms empty upon our quiet arrival; we desire no man nor woman or child to listen.
"Suppose we never truly lived."
"Yes........we must be quite a sight for their flesh."
"Their flesh is quite a sight for us."
"A tad frightening unfortunately......"
"I cannot recall a moment of fear as admittance from you."
"I confess........"
Stranger than any presence is purity; this world is a ballroom we delight chaos of music and garments.
Where is my obvious mistress?
"I desire chocolate as my dessert."
"Perhaps I am a genie."
"If you are a genie I am the lamp."
Little fervor wraps around my thigh; large chandeliers not quite as bright.
"You being the genie, please bid me sleep."
"You will when you realize how much entertainment this is for all of us."
Tigers so gentle when not much ado; Lotus petals catch a falling cub before he awakens. He looks at me as if I purposely brought our surprise to nap and laughs a famed chimney smoke.
What is this feeling of the night? Oddity is not enough for black the presence of all colors exuding none. Slightly disturbed by this newness I become old.
"May I dance with you."
As I turn to meet the noticeable spirit in the land of my dead, the theatre of theatrics changes into contrast as transcendence of a demon into suffering.
"I am much too old to dance with you child. Many a young man is here surely for your splendor. I assure you they will accompany you with....."
My trail of memory somehow lost the carriage to mudslides dampened with dying villages.
"Superficiality is what they will provide as an appearance. I wish to dance with you."
Scent of budding roses stings my nostrils, an undesirable enchantment, I look over her supple shoulders, a bouquet hides us from wandering eyes; the fragrance travels to another portion of our black celebration.
"You would give me away to young men? Do you know of their intention?"
"You are not mine to give away."
"You prefer me to be with a young man as you fall for appearances or do you desire to be a young man once again?"
"I must know you from some place; I am sorrowful."
"You are sorrow."
As we stand aback at her likeness of tamed beasts I am adaptive to her waltz; somehow I never noticed she carried my heels upon toes.
"You walk as a cat upon chosen surfaces. You look as a cat would upon satisfaction."
"I am never satisfied."
"Do you always look at her with such a flame? Fire is never satisfied unless engulfing an entire realm of disease."
"Thus fire is purification."
"Fire can be a disease."
Blue of my sorrow lifts an arch over a cautious marble which fell from a playful bag; his preoccupation with lilacs causes us both to be without rescue.
"Am I your disease?"
She giggles from bubbles forming amongst frozen Brulee; Sea of Japan is a spurt of laughter for a young woman with her toes inside the sand.
"What was that?"
"Nothing at all......."
"Must of been something but I will let it pass."
"I am yours to allow passing?"
"You are hers to be a flame."
"Then why is it you dance with me?"
"You are the man I trust."
"Then surely you will learn not to trust me if you rely on a trust unforeseen."
"Will you ever trust me again?"
"If you allow me to pass."
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