Blocks Of Enamel

With hands like fire

His hands burn all they touch

And so you must avoid his lingering fingers

As suggestive as they may be

As he drags you forward

You try to resist

His opaque blocks of enamel

Draw you in

The emerald eyes

In which you swim

Lost in the moment

As though some foreign dream

And so you spin slowly along the floor

Like two intwined tops

Spinning ever so slowly

One foot after the other

He guides you

But you could still use a map

You flash him a smile

And he think's he's got you caught

He takes you over to the stools

A quick flick of the wrist

And you sit back and smile

As you wait for him to sip his drink.