Bombay

For me, he is the entire city,
unabashed:
Curls spilling darkly down his neck,
wind-whipped and wild.
Naked torso gleaming amber
and sticky with salt.
Sand slashed across bare legs
glowing lean and gold in the pink twilight.
Moon-kissed warm and dry,
arms veined and marble sculpted.
Straight shoulders shakily cradling
an entire metropolis
of quick, indifferent confidence.
Broad fingers curled and dripping
shaved ice, candied red.
Lips stained, bitten bloodshot,
peeking tease of a tongue
and languid alligator smile.
Low-lidded eyes burned gray
surveying the choppy ocean through
the safe curtain of his eyelashes.

A big, big thank you to Midnight In Eden for giving some great advice.

What do you think of this version? Better? Worse?