Flash

A girl dances amid a throbbing mob and a young man, too shy in his own mind, makes an awkward advance.

Music thrums,

a pounding, thrusting rhythm

matching my mind,

a crude machine with licentious action,

ticking a momentum through my shivering legs

and caterpillar hands

that crawl across my torpid thighs

scratching for courage in bare earth.

I tiptoe to the dance floor

where she waits,

a flash of red and flesh

that vibrates across air,

a living sound of arcing symphony

cascading like flaming oil

and water cannot extinguish her.

I move,

an awkward tumble of bulky man

made for mumbled words

not staccato toes.

To impress is folly and flaw

and impossible and so I flow

against water.

The rapids slow

and I hold her to me,

one hand on smooth curve,

a passing moment

and lasting fancy,

a runners ache across my legs

and arms

and fluttering stomach

and I dare not speak

and crush the butterfly

in its cocoon.

Author's Note

Critiques of imagery would be helpful.