A poem and a blurb or a blurb and a poem, who knows?

[Super Anana]

The sinuous movement of limbs and energy is provocative; I want to melt into the pattern, to weave within and without of the pragmatic beat of joy and lust and anger, and maybe even love. The gest surrounding me, auras of emotion confounding...me. Dueling of rhythm and rhyme, all in half-time, part-time, four/four time... I miss succumbing to bass that I feel to the bone, I miss wild gyrations and the awe-inspiring transcendence derived... misplacing myself in a sea of aggression and beauty. Reservation or preservation? I don't know, but I miss it all. I want to dance.
* * *
she tilts back in her chair
her breasts heave with her
movement
her bra strap appears
from beneath her dress
the lace cup already half
visible
the freckle
on the soft curve of her
breast
enticing
intriguing
her breathing, labored
her throat pulsates
with each breath
aching
for a little bit of heaven
pleading
for a little touch
demanding
all of your attention
but
you just look away