the lean trunk of this beautiful man hamming it up on the sparsely peopled dance floor, it glisters, snaring in his core the available light. and that slays me.
his abs, still with graceless charm unharmed by the prodding of steroids and obsessive gymming, throbs, spasms, trilling to the tired techno beat because this motion, this ritual in the heat of a summer night protects him, just maybe, from the startling coldness of the early dawn later.
most of the times, i just think beauty is a hoax. but tonight, this man again surprises me with a beauty, real, unimagined.
it's criminal that i seem to ignore most of the times all this grace just wafting around me. my blindness, my short sightedness, perhaps, probably because i am crippled, lamed by my language, vestigial and undeveloped. you just don't know how frustrating it is at how my limited life vocabulary thwarts, in language, what all this beauty does. to me.
as the music winds down, this beautiful man does something breathtaking with his torso, his entire carriage that i just don't know how to describe. how doubly disenchanting it is to experience beauty and not be able later to bear witness to the wonder of it all.
