It was just a fucking dance and my shoes were perfect
The lights made the girls shiny and receptive
Even I felt like something worth having, buffed, polished
Her hair hung over the pier railing, watching the waves
In my mind she was already mine, boy heart filled perilously
full
History and love often times not the best of bedfellows
The last pier dance, time ravaged wood, Mother ocean rolled
Sounding her come hither whistles and it was time to go
In a second she swallowed her progeny whole, no wailing
It was just a fucking dance and my shoes were perfect
You made me feel young again, like dancing .....
ReplyDeleteYour Zevon is showing, just a wee bit. This is just another example of the highly compressed novellas you do so well.
ReplyDeleteOH no... I thought this was going to be fun & flirty, but I was wrong.
ReplyDeleteThis made me think of an old movie: "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?"
ReplyDeleteBut I love that your shoes were perfect.
K
Ienjoyed your hardened perspective that riles the standard usually perceived in the romance of a dance. ...you will dance with me and my polished 'perfect' shoes and you will like it. I enjoyed this 'John Wayne-ish' take.
ReplyDeletelove this, that's all.
ReplyDelete