Never, neverland.

Never, never land…

(Let’s escape to Big Sur. Let’s dance with the ghosts of yesterday, let’s dance with the ghost of today. Let’s find a never, never land where our mind and heart can know the wonder of a perfect day, the sun on our face. Let’s become like children in heart and learn to smile again.)

The first kiss, the last kiss. What kiss shall we remember? I believe, every kiss I told her. She asked for a kiss. And I told her. I never refuse a kiss. Each kiss makes me want a thousand more.

She had the tattoo of a raven on her back; she had the tattoos of butterflies on her pretty feet. A hidden heart on her inner thigh and a smile that could tempt my heart and my mind. He told her, even a mournful woman can be a muse. Sometimes easier to awake the dead, then the living.

A mournful woman had nothing to hide. I washed her hair; I washed her back. I washed her feet and her legs. I kissed the flying raven on her back. I told her. What mystery is hidden in your eyes.

She submitted to me willingly; her eyes were dangerous and wild. I asked her. Are we dancing on quicksand? She smiled and she whispered. The gift of the flesh demands payment. Sometimes dear Johnnie, we must share a wink. And free-fall into the need of the body. Maybe the heart can follow?

Dancing Coyote