A small blueman patiently sat by the window looking into the dancehall. The cyan parrot outside giggled softly to herself. Elated as she watched him wait. She finally appeared at the entrance. Dark Kohl-lined eyes. Sun-warmed skin. He savored glimpses of her enviously as she moved. Her big gold hoops swayed as if in the wind. Her booty pop in hot-pink batty-riders.

He always wanted to be a dancehall queen.

He fell into a hallucination under the shadows of the voluptuous full moon. Closed eyes. His skin began to ripple. Clashing cymbals. Ratte of kettle drums. The beating grew louder. He was now a boy in a body-con skirt. Smooth calves. Stomping heels. He seduced the beats. One! Two! Three! Dripping, soaking wet. The spotlight faded.

Until they dance again.