dancer

WOMEN'S INTUITION.

We talked about the dance,
she said. Is that all? Yes,
well she did mention that
her man was late home

 

from work sometimes
and she misses him
before she has to leave
for the dance show,

 

but that's all. I see,
Fred said. Nellie looked
at him, brushed her hair.
Her dancing is faltering,

 

Nellie said. As if she
had other things on her
mind. What other things?
he asked. How do I know?

 

She didn't say. Unless she
thinks her man is cheating
on her? Do you think he is?
Fred said. He's the type who

 

would, Nellie said. What's
the type who would? I don't
know, but you can tell, there's
something about him gives

 

me the creeps. Women's
intuition? he said. You could
say that, she said. How comes
she doesn't have that intuition,

 

too? Fred said. She's in love with
him, love blinds, she said.
What are you dancing, tonight?
he asked. Swam Lake, she said.

 

She finished brushing her hair
and poured him a scotch and ice
and prepared to leave. He watched
her as she put on her coat, her

 

fingers buttoning up, her eyes
watching her hands in action,
her tongue poking over her
lower lip.  He lifted his glass

 

of scotch, studied her ankles,
and had a long slow sip.

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Fancy Dancer

They say that Mister Rango

Loved to do the tango,

He's stay up every night til dawn,

Dancing the tango on his front lawn.

 

And every once in a full blue moon,

On nights it rained, and some afternoons,

He sell you a dime bag or two,

But now he's too old for that, at 52.

 

12:02 AM 7/7/2013 ©

 

...............

Author's Notes/Comments: 

nursery rhyme

The Dancer

Folder: 
Poems

She shines as she dances in the black light trance
Curious gazes emanating from behind the veil, of her embraces.
I am naked in this twilight intoxicated with her madness
What lies behind those haunting eyes? I would bleed to know.
Chaos chases her erotic gazes as she takes upon the stages.
Mirrors dance in her reflection, she is magic.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Some thoughts from watching the dancers. Much more can be derived than the obvious from them.

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"Charisma"

by Jeph Johnson

 

Around a golden pole circles my dreams
I love the way her body spins
And how inspiration
graces the cover of magazines
I love the way her body shakes
It's anything but routine
For there's Charisma in-between
What I imagine and what I've seen
And I love the way her body sways
Right into my eyes and back again
To the golden pole I envy
And I love the way her body dances
Right into my dreams
Then I awaken
To the golden sunlight through my window
And I love the way her body moves
Around the pole and then she climbs it
And like my hope she slides down
Unlike my dreams which stay Charisma

Author's Notes/Comments: 

for Charisma, circa 2000

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