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The Club Was Caribbean
a flashing view in the washroom mirror
who the hell is that
a plain jane in a neat grey suit
no edges
no lustre
no – LUST
oh my god it’s me
Lips flame rouged
Shaded lids in saucy shadows
To her breast a crimson rose
And dancing heels with red silk lining
Swaying lithely to silent melody
Tingling with desire to dance
Twirling swirling scarlet skirt
...Monday 27th June 2011 11:18 am
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