All she can hear is the rush of wind in her hair.
The tink tink tink of her silver earrings.
And the crunch of swallowed saliva.
The swell of traffic farts and bleats.
But over this roars the heart's a beat.
She pedals furiously.
Her thighs possessed.
Her top teeth chew her bottom lip.
Her eyes are slits against the sun and fumes.
Black and smiling under crafted brow arcs.
And she feels free.
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
Sunday, 15 May 2011
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