I see those girls with their shimmy hips, laced up strappies. The one in the remnants bin bohemian dress says, “Let’s go dancing.” She isn’t kidding. There are three to one odds we will all find love tonight under twinkle stars, road map umbrella shelters and every single glass overflowing because no one can dance without spilling their drink. Now….can they?
I don’t imagine too often that I’ll see tomorrow night the same way yesterday night became today morning. You know, the one with the streaky sky filled with pink blue white? It astonished me that my hair woke up straight for once just like I left it when I passed out cold under your blanket, behind your back, holding my breath in case you realized I was still there after the clock struck twelve and all bets were off.
I thought I might whisper the love poems I started memorizing right around the time I got my first period and I bled all over my childhood and started planning my wedding. That was quite a few years before the divorce. Seriously, she isn’t kidding.
She dances fast, it looks like spinning. I dream I think a minute of watching and I find myself flying. I look back and I wish I was seeing only you and me and an empty room filled with deep sighs and honest kissing. Joke’s on me you’re already gone out the back and your whole heart with you and I am holding an empty glass and a road map but I flip my straight hair away from my face and I shrug. She really wasn’t kidding.