2-Step
       

You thought a little dancing would do it. Knowing my weakness for
the slide guitar, you chose a country station playing classic cowboy
songs all night. There were other people there but there weren't other
people there. There were moths against the glass wanting to abandon
the night for the fiery spark of my thrift store lamp. When we lit
cigarettes, we held them away from our faces because they were so
close. I could smell your beer breath, a hint of rum, and love you for
it the way I could not love you for anything else. I memorized the feel
of your wrist, the way it twisted to get out of my grasp during the last
long gasp of your hips moving under me. And the song about waltzing
across Texas went on forever while the radio died with the last closing
door.

Copyright © 2010 Elizabeth J. Colen All rights reserved
from Money for Sunsets
Steel Toe Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission