Carol Little

Saturday Night

Stealing furtive,
but thorough,
glimpses
through darkened lenses,
I caught your eyes
searching mine.

Chance encounter
night excursion
drawn in
without warning
heart races
air catches
fumble for my inhaler.

Flaxen strands,
semi-exposed,
fragrant softness
teases my senses.
Lost in you
all details blur
in a nervous haze,
feverish energy
pounding bass
drum beat
pulls us together
hungry
for the same touch.

Put your arms
around me
so I can stop pretending
that you aren’t
my dreams materialized,
an ethereal dance floor fantasy
under cheap laser lights.

Can’t turn back,
shyness overcome by
rum and coke bravery,
I have no
past or future
dancing with you,
overwhelmed
with now;
you could
talk me into
anything.

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