Caderas.

A woman's hips in the end of day
When the sun peaks tip over stretches of Egyptian construction.

Man creates the body, or would you say it’s God?

Man creates the destruido, a people of humble breath.
This time of day, seeing
Clothe and dirt,
Energy in its first infection.

Grasping the space in between,
Infectious laugh,
(no wait, I’ve said that)
Pouches of cancer sift in pink tissue
But a man seems clean.

Dangerously animalistic,
It causes no stir in the sterility of an innocent.

Fat sits around pockets of pre-birth,
Preparing for the opening.
Is it true touch breeds obsession?
Held at the waist,
It’s a powerful grip on ownership or claims.

Tall with thickness, of the hair on arms or
Puberty.
Minds don’t have to think alike to set records
With limbs
And
False contact.

Collisions are rare,
Metal on metal,
There’s the scientific equation for everything.