Scene in a Bar

As she smiled with bright glass-water eyes, she pulled her skirt up. Her skin was gold in the night. I prey and prowl, for that treasure. But now we where playing angels, all in the game of man and woman and sacred dance. Like white moths in the air enchanting. Still, i looked incisively at her legs. Diving brown, wild but nonchalant. Hell, i digged knowing that she knew i wanted her. But that that could also be refinement. We were at a party in one of this booming lounge concept bars. Everything was soft, the walls, the beds, the drinks, the visuals, the girls, soft like melon ice. But we were apart.

And could have been in a crystal jungle talking by the trees. The monkeys would be silent for us and just the bird would air his song at the only moment. Looking deep through words and grooves. Without touching her I caressed. Movements of hands of wind. Vodka dreams. Your beautiful but you have a black skirt. I said. And. Well you should wear a white skirt. Like a virgin for your mind. No like a snowleopard of the moon. Imagine all the people here and there always wearing the same clothes, always black in the night, fashionably so. And you wearing white and flowers just found in the street. I was telling her she was the same as all this people that we has been dissing. But i knew she wasn't. And be a rasta and smoke marihuana. You want marihuana. No no just kidding. But one day you should wake up and do everything differently, go by another road to your school or not go, brush your teeth with your other hand. Eat a plant, Shock your mom and also were a white skirt. She laughed and said or not wear a skirt at all. No, not so much. You wouldn't be able to take off the swans. She didn't no about Helen's mom and all that but that was better. It sort of captivated her, all the strange stuff she didn't wholly understand.