Friday, January 1, 2016

the last dance

I would love to go dancing with
you one night, she tells me,
as a song comes on the radio
that she likes.
she moves her feet,
taps her fingers against
the dashboard, sways as
best she can with the seat belt
wrapped around her in
the passenger seat.
no you wouldn't, I tell her.
I don't dance anymore,
and when I did, when I was
younger, it was more about
getting the girl and drinking.
but I have you now and I don't
drink much anymore, so that
leaves dancing out for me.
this makes her shake her head
and say, well maybe i'll have
to find a man that wants to
dance with me.
to which I reply. go ahead.
do what you need to do.
but I don't mean it, and she
knows that as she reaches
over to place her tapping
fingers against my knee.

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