MONSOON

The breeze rustles in the jungle of my hair, a solitary leopard
lurks, whetting its appetite without ever chasing me, coating my damp, shivering skin with its feline instinct. 

All claws out, I wander, camouflaged among the bamboos, strutting in the savannah, the tropical forest caressing me with its torpor. I breathe hot air, I fan myself with a palm leaf, agile with clay feet.

Sure of myself, I follow my way, tracing this path that I chose to take, always pressed in my braided leather sandals. Long dress of an evening which waits for the rain as the moon waits for the night.

I am Jane, from creeper to lioness, I am Meryl on the road to Nairobi, under the canopy, under the shelter of a storm with zebra lightning. I am waiting for you, exotic, erotic.

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