she used
to do a dance for me
on Friday
nights.
like you'd see the go go
girls dancing
on Shindig.
sometimes she'd be up
on a chair,
wearing her
tool belt and little else.
throwing
herself around
as if demon possessed,
her hair flying
about,
arms in the air.
i'd ask her if she wanted
me to put
some music on,
to which she'd say,
no, i'm good.
last night she came over
with a bottle
of Pepto Bismol,
and i had to help her
up the stairs.
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