ago
there used to be a exotic
dancer
who lived
two doors
down.
a long-legged beauty
with black
hair.
i'd see her come home
late at night
in her high heels
and satin
robes.
she'd be drunk sometimes,
or with
someone
trying desperately
to kiss her.
they were noisy,
laughing,
carrying on.
then i saw her one day
with a belly
bump.
and carrying into
her house
a stroller
and a crib.
she looked at me and
smiled,
shrugged her shoulders
and said
something like, oh well,
things happen.
i won't be dancing for awhile.
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