Sticky....... Poem by RIC BASTASA

the spanish guitar plays
i love the sounds of strings

they are like Russian ballet
dancers
tiptoeing then dropping their
toes on the stage floors

my fingers giggle like excited
seaweeds on a clear sea

my feet are dancing and my mind
is traveling to Barcelona where

some sticky memories were left
and perhaps with this long absence

must have dried on the floor where
we once rubbed our bodies tightly

knit like silk threads in the pillow
of a recently married princess to her prince.