The Waltz

and on the subject of her hair
or lack thereof,
i've already commented
on several occasions that
her loose strands were set free to create sexual mayhem
and sometimes
kept dormant in the maiden style of Carol Burnett;
that's no stand up joke, my friend.
oft times there was nothing funny about a fine tuft of beautiful hair
especially when it was located in the moist center of the known universe.
in other words, it could be closer to first-rate
than that famous crack in the Liberty Bell of Philadelphia
and equally rare & precious.
i once went to a protected area near the local river
where I unrolled my favorite blanket;
i remember it was a foggy afternoon during a humid summer week
and she was already there waiting with a warm bottle
of Strong Merlot and a plate made sweet with ripe strawberries.
her hair was unkempt.
she still had on a pair of thread-bare shorts and nearby
were her leather sandals neatly placed on the wet grass.
without a shirt or bra, it was pleasing to see her oblong areola deeply pink.
for some reason, i thought of the waltz, a song made for dancing.
she wanted to dance.