I found an old notebook and in it was a torn-out piece of paper with these words:

(These are a child’s impressions of a street entertainer.)

the dancer steps forward

Hips whirling frantically

as she turns and twists.

Sweat drips from her dark brow,

her hands extended from her sides,

twisting, reaching.

The men whoop and cheer

their scraggled beards and hair


their eyes gleam hungrily

as the beer bottles clink and slosh.

The dark hair on their arms

caked with dust

that flies off in little clouds

as they reach greedy fingers at her.

She bites her lip, her eyes

look like they might burst with tears

any second

the grass skirt rustles

twisting, twirling

around her thick, curved legs

bare feet shuffle the dust.


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