Perfect Scar

Feet sliding off the porcelain floor, my dress carries the wind with it; rising and falling as I

sway my hips to the crooning husky voice on the radio. You tilt your head to one side and a

smile creeps up on your face. The dimpled one. You must be the exception to the rule.

Surprisingly ordinary yet extra-ordinary, date.

Pulled out chairs, opened doors, a kiss on the cheek goodbye. Picasso’s finished piece. 

You re-mould the missing patterns; An art
I'm on cloud nine. I'm arrollando! (overhelmed) in a conga. So carefree I release all worries into dance. Cha! cha! cha! Its a good day. You reach out for my hand. I feel a sudden tingle rush down my spine. Not ORdinary. My feet adopt a smoother rhythm. Waltz. You stare into my eyes and I smile into yours. Searchingly, you gaze upon my sweat beaded brow. I shift my weight clumsily from one leg to the other. A giggle erupts through pursed lips, shattering the silence enveloping us. You laugh. I'm SHY. You can tell.

I reach for the plates. Hair sweeping my face as I turned. Running; cool, warm, hot water gushing. Rich white foam. Tiny strips of spaghetti swimming in a thick creamy sauce; my plate. Your plate defines your appetite; Scraped clean. A SECRET compliment; thank you. My hands swirl around in the sink, chasing dancing cutlery. Its late, I think to myself.  You should properly leave NOW. I feel your breath on my neck. Dark sculptured fingers sliding down the arch of my back. An ease of movement. Foxtrot. Tightening. Digging harshly into brown silk. You gentleman.

Sharp kick backwards with pointed toes and jerky knees. Dirty Jive! Forcing me down till the fight in me sinks down like your loaded fist. These men friends of ours, who wave to us across the street and help the OLD LADY with groceries. Ordinary but extra-ordinary. Blinded by forgotten courtesies.We must be. It would never be him. No, it's the stranger we hope not to meet. Broken glass quietly weeping crimson. Just dinner. Thorn frame abandoned, lips quivering. Too weak from struggling, hot burning coal heaped on my icy thighs. Sweaty grunting and a HELPLESS cry. Dew lingering on Bloodshot eyes. Slowly drooping. You look at me, smirking. Polished shoes, combed hair; EMployed. That smile! Perfect. "Thanks for dinner baby." Scarred.