Lizard of Dreams

She was the woman from my dream,
although I only noticed her attractiveness at first.
She stood in the waiting area of the restaurant,
waiting to be seated, or waiting for someone.
She had an inner light that made it easier to see others.
Her skin was an even deep brown,
too tan for June in our climate.
Her blue floral summer dress stopped below mid-thigh.
Her brown hair hung past her shoulders.
It had been tousled by the wind and blanched by the sun.
Unconsciously, she flicked her thick mane like a proud pony,
touching it into place.
I saw her face with her dark, penetrating eyes, interested and interesting.
She posed as she waited, shifting her weight leg to leg.
Her skirt ticked against her brown thigh.
Her legs were smooth and gracefully muscular,
the legs of a tennis player or a skater.
She made a half-turn to look across the room
when I saw the tattoo entailed on the inside of her right ankle.
It was a lizard of Mayan design.
It faced head down near her heel.
The tail wrapped around her anklebone;
it twitched slightly in the light and on the movement of her skin.
The skin of the lizard shimmered blue, green and silver.
The lizard dabbled on the field of brown,
returning my memory to hidden dreams of turbulent blood.

Bruce E. Tomczak