- Erotic Poetry
- A Tango: Stolen Glimpse of Paradise
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He spoke - no, I lie.
His lips parted with a slight exhalation,
Leaving unspoken communique
Hanging in the air, a lead zeppelin,
A silence louder than my screams of passion,
Reducing DJ's bouncy cacophony
To Muzak, quiet, bland.
He approached me on the dance floor,
Bowed, held his hand out to receive mine,
And swept me away into a Tango,
Deftly performed with silent grace.
And as he held me tightly,
Our bodies moved together,
Effortlessly, building
To ever higher pinnacles,
Creating pure art,
Creating pure passion.
He spoke but 4 words,
"Trust me," he said, each time
He whirled me into a dip,
Occasionally "trust me, it's ok."
I never learned his name.
Never acted on any of the
Fantasies woven by our dance,
Our Tango, which erased all else.
Never needed to. The tango
Fulfilled perfectly,
And near song's end
I did as he advised,
And he moved me into
The perfect dip, my hair
Dusting the floor,.
And while I've forgotten
Too many lovers,
I will never lose that dance,
That stranger. That ecstasy.
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