Salsa Lesson at the Latin Jazz AlleyJohn Murillo
The dance floor is a fistful of flamboyán petals, scattered twists of sinew and stilettos, a rainforest of thighs. Tonight, a conga will conjure raindrops under a blue silk dress and I will ache for a woman who dances in a tongue where God and goodbye share the same root. Tonight, I will learn grace as the art of letting go.
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