to swing

it's a gaggle of girls.
broads
Sinatra might say
who gather at
the glen echo park to dance
on the hardwood floor.
swing.
they are dressed
as if it's nineteen forty
four,
before VJ day,
with a war still on.
polka dots and bows.
it's hot in there, and their
curls
droop flat
after dancing with sailors
and soldiers,
who were.
no alcohol, except
in flasks
left in the cars.
the music is loud
and boisterous
as the dresses fly up,
the men with boyish hope
in their eyes.
the shoes click
across the wood.
it's a fantasy world.