The Dancers

Wood scent musk smoky pine Irish Spring ylang ylang, patcholi cinnamon 
ambergris whiskey clean cotton fresh cut grass flavored 
clove cigarettes peppermint oiled leather
     makes encounters memorable.

From within a darkened room
Images of dancing couples rolling, crawling across walls floors ceilings faces      
And knowing nothing.

Close your eyes.
Try and hear the music.
Alter the preordained steps- it's the hips
The pounding salsa flavored drums 
Pulse in his hand in your hand,
His hand on your hip.
Trace his vertebrae 
With fingertips.

Lights bob and weave behind closed lids.
     Do not look at the floor, your feet,
But feel his eyes, warm on your face. 

With a close-eyed laugh, remark that 
     he has done this many times before,

-And as soon as you say it,

Her shrill sharp warnings rush forward and will not shut up oh shutup! 
about parading lines of women -fitted shirts short skirts leather boots jackets 
blond hair bloody beautiful lips white gleaming devouring teeth.

But the voices are momentarily silenced      
as the room swirls and twirls and tips with lights and couples,
     legs sweaty perfumed hair jackets floral dresses jeans hips arms lips
All as he guides you into an embrace 
caught and tossed up to the ceiling the floor and brought back for more - 
    another round of chaotic, delicious spinning.

June 7, 2005