She’s dancing toward me
But not for me
Breasts jouncing
Stomach undulating
Hips twitching
Gaze fixed steadily just above my right shoulder.
A chirrup of zills a flick of her hair she whirls away
Rose and patchouli in her wake.
Snatching up a veil, she drapes it
To cover her face not her glistening body.
Then she’s spinning-
A whirlwind of Bollywood colors-
Urged on by the ululations and
Handclaps of envious spectators.

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