dancing fools

do you dance,
she says
licking
the end of
her milkshake
straw. pffft,
what, are you
kidding me, i
say. i love
to dance.
i take lessons
three nights
a week. oh, do
tell she says,
getting
excited. leaning
her chin
into her hands.
what kind of
dances are
you learning.
rumba, congo,
the watusi,
the twist, that
sort of thing,
i tell her.
oh my, she
says, aren't
you a pistol.
you have no
idea, i tell her.
do you hear that.
she puts her
ear up like
a dalmation,
hear what, she
says. that tapping,
that's my feet
below the table.
those feet
are on fire,
baby. she peeks
under the table
where my feet
are flopping
around, heel to
toe, etc.
you are something
she says, then
sucks the rest
of the milkshake
out of her cup
with one giant
slurp.