Indigo Walk

Just an afternoon or two,
of limited beckoning.
He touches her lips.
He has a golden tongue.
He tells he things she only dreams about.
It's a deception.
She is hypnotised by the people on the street below.
That kind of fascination; warm and scary,
heaven drifting past the window
but stopping a while inside this room.
He has purchased an hour;
time for the city to heat his blood and move on.
She lets her fingers work his buttons
and laughs before she straddles him
while he breathes hot in the shimmering light.
Too loud, he murmurs.
but he door is locked and they sigh.
The shade stretches all the way down Indigo Walk
as the blues man carries the beat.