Consider a clenched fist,
a flared nostril.
An expletive salting
the afternoon air.
Or a cashmere caress,
lips wet on a neck.
A whisper's velvet whirl
into an ear.
Two streams cascading
down different sides
of the same mountain.
Same fluid clarity.
Same foam
surging over
whatever lies
in the creek bed,
stirring turbulent reflections.
Who among us can bathe
and remain unswayed?
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