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Watch!

the glimmering shadow

cerulean, magenta and lime
dancing as she blinks
those Betty Boop lashes
considering the possibilities that strut by

the pleated pants push

onward through the crush
of painted bodies -
humanoid limbs and refracted faces
Picasso, Caravaggio
a crowd of rippling rhythms

the cavern visitor

styles himself a connoisseur
of Nature's perfection
a lithe predator
whose appetite dictates

his prey must have

flowing locks, coiffed to perfection
No glitter!
but just enough sparkle
in those demure eyes
framed by delicate brows,
atop contoured cheekbones
and a pair
of salmon lips awaiting
his granted kiss

Not those cheap flashy girls

like drag queens

choosing to perform themselves
in ebullient hues
satire of the perfected feminine
they embrace the gaudy and godless

he searches for the properly precious,

disdaining the brash and forwardly open
drawn to the barely theres
who bask in their
naturally appropriate
lured by the refined
the silky threads that softly entangle
pairing off together the sufficiently aloof

shackled by propriety

the hunter finally feels
the costliness of the natural

6-1-15