Untitled - January 14, 2002

-Hell on High Heels (She's got 8" stilettos  and she isn't afraid to use them!) 

In the early morning hours
the almost silent shift
of a tight leather mini
is nearly missed
with an inaudible sigh.

Heads turn
to watch
the statuesque
walk,
and marvel
at the careful balance
between the terror
of falling
and the confidence of knowing
she won't.

It's the subtle swish of
hide against
the fishnets
that ratchets
the tension of the moment -
so minute,
it becomes ingrained
deeply
into the psyche.

Every step
becomes a moment
forever remembered
as eyes travel
from the rough stone edges,
wandering left,
then right...
high heels never slipping
on the uneven ground. 

The curve of the ankle
is where I linger -
transfixed
by the simple
beauty of the moment
inches away from the ground.

Slowly,
the gaze shifts
ever upwards -
gliding past
smooth calves,
to strong thighs -
all lovingly wrapped
in the softest
of dark silks.

An inner purr begins,
as the vision becomes clear -
sleek curves
and strength --
barely restrained
in a shiny
new jacket.

As the day peeks
over the horizon,
the sunlight plays
across black shades,
and reflects from
the bright chrome 
that surrounds us.

Even as I let go on the throttle,
and ease onto harsh pavement,
I can feel both arms
and thighs
tightening
around me -
carefully shifting
the rider (and bike)
into a higher gear
even as we ride
into the sunrise.