the dance

you once danced with a girl
in high school,
slow danced in her basement
while her parents smoked cigarettes
and watched art linkletter
upstairs. slowly the album
spun around on the turn table
at 33 rpm. over and over
the same songs, again and again.
other young couples were
there, you could hear
the smacking of lips,
the huffing of young lust
searching for buttons
and clips, clasps that
wouldn't come undone.
and you, chewing a wad
of pink bubble gum, dropping
it into her long black hair.
trying to get it out
with your guppy mouth,
her screaming, the lights
going on, the parents
rushing down. everyone staring
at you, asking you,
what have you done.
when you saw her on Monday
in school, her hair was short,
all the gum gone.
as well as you.