Hanging by a thread,
they fly into the eye
of the red-winged dragon
who huffs with bravado.
But their course is set -
they're aimed straight
for the window.
One leads with pale breasts
bared beneath beads of gold,
multi-colored wings striped
with the same desire
that burns in her eyes.
The second undulates fiercely
through warm morning air,
iridescent scales flash
along her tail, her wings
held high to catch the next wave
of dust-speckled wind.
Both of them know
what ripples beyond
that red-haired puff-boy,
that reptilian sham.
They know the window's open,
the screen's in disrepair.
Their fine mouths are lined
in their secret understanding:
the miniblinds are only a ruse.