American Woman

She symbolizes all things worth fighting for.
A woman whose instinct is to love, the durable way,
Searching for her port of calling. 
She bares her midriff, inviting navel kisses,
And struts her generous thighs, opening doors
To her own secret wonderland. She tangos
With the wind, holding her poise like
A flamingo on one knee, graceful and majestic,
Carving through the endless brine,
St Elmo’s Fire, lighting her mahogany irises,
Armed with the goods to make any man fall for her,
To unveil the deciduous nature of a testosterone-charged gender,
To brilliantly-varnished hulls, those feminine arks,
That possess so much joie de vivre,
Making you fall in love in a flash.
She only searches for a colony, for occupancy,
A jetty that is rugged, made of long-lived timbers.
Call this woman, Pinta, Nina or Santa Maria;
A little whisper in her carefree tongue,
As she moors to your harbor, summoned by fatum,
And tells you, she is here to stay, invited and
Welcomed at this port of disembarkation,
The limbs roping in, who arrives in mystery,
With a deck-full of cargo, of those incineration-prone material,
The kerosene glow on her face, brilliant,
As she unloads affection from her lips,
In that beautifying reciprocal,
Of Columbian exchange.

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