night fever

you dream one
night that you
are back in the
seventies. you are
wearing your purple
bell bottoms and
your womanly silk
button down blouse
with galleon ships
in full sail.
you have a white
belt and boots,
and hair that you
blow dry for an hour
or so in the mirror
before you go out
dancing under the
glow of a spinning
ball and drinking
rum and cokes with
a wedge of lime.
it's not a good dream,
and you can smell
the canoe cologne
aftershave on your
mustachioed face when
you awaken trembling
with a match book
in your hand and a
smudged phone number
written on the back
cover in blue ink.
ginger it says.