September 12, 2006


Temperature's rising
And we reach across the city
In anticipation of what's to come
The words we speak are practice strokes
We tease each other playfully
Without bravado or doubt
Ours is a dance we have danced many times and still we never tire
We hear the same drum and move to the same rhythm
Which is the work half done
All that's left is the manifestation of pleasure

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