When you danced with me
I think I fell in love then.
I just didn't know it yet.
There I stood my hair
a drizzle in sparkling rain drops
clinging to my black pea coat
and there you were watching me
with those gripping blue eyes
that know exactly how to ensnare me
(like a rabbit in a snap trap).
It was so happy!
I can remember you pulling my hands
grasping them tightly and
ignoring every plea I made about
my horrible dancing.
"I can't dance!" I'd shout.
I'd beg you not to do it,
but you never listened.
I'm strangely thankful you didn't.
Music rings within me, even now,
happy and resplendent like a light fall of rain
on a small array of dancing young people, upon my heart, too.
A tangle of lights and
an intoxicating desire to fall fully next your
moving body and
pretend mine could move as happy
and young
and beautiful as yours.
You whispered we'd get married.
You teased me into submission.
Now all I can think of when I hear happy music
is dancing in the moonlight with you,
wishing more than ever I had grabbed your hand right back
and never let it go.
I still dream of dancing with you.
I see that night like a dream on replay, watching it from
high above through the jungle of smiling lights and
careless young people.
It goes like this:
I'm on the balcony absent of a coat feeling the cold air beckon me. The stars are watching me.
I quietly watch the happy people moving. Talking.
Existing so effortlessly.
Some are holding hands, others are sitting on wet metal chairs chatting. They look at each other and their eyes are brimming with unanswerable questions. What are they looking for? I ask no one in particular.
My eyes always seem to want to find yours.
My rigid fingers push upon the ledge and lean my body over slightly, perhaps wanting to fall, perhaps daring to fly.
I move away.
Slowly the people seem to mix with each other like a painting of jocund confusion.
Red lips. Brown hair. Blue jeans. Black umbrellas. Pale hands. Pink cheeks. Black shoes. Tan shoes. Black sky. Warm colors dominating the cold air.
It's beautiful.
I feel beautiful watching it.
A weary smile tugs at my cheeks.
(An old friend I've missed).
Then you're behind me asking for a picture.
Slowly I make my way down the staircase, you trailing excitedly behind me and we all squish together in a photograph that will forever convey the happiness of too many young people slowly losing contact with each other with each breath the night exhales.
We're so happy.
I'm so happy.
I almost don't recognize myself.
I recall climbing the wooden steps into your house and remembering this is
the first time I remember recognizing your house.
It's a well-lived home.
Chirps and birds and birdcages confuse me for a split moment, but then I'm smiling again.
It's such a beautiful home.
You're there somehow, sneaking behind my senses, and so is my sister.
Oddly it's only the three of us for a small moment.
We talk about roman candles and our last days together and then my smile fades.
Surprising tears threaten to flood from within me, but I won't let them.
I cannot cry in front of you.
I can't reveal the love I do not even recognize myself.
The memory floods from me for a second and suddenly you're there,
blocking my way through the door. As if I even wish to go through it when I have you inside it instead.
Flares are inside your eyes.
You look dangerously attractive.
It excites me into nervousness.
I can almost taste my heartbeat.
We talk quietly about a kiss or marriage or rather something I can't recall, but
you undid me.
You tugged at the knots of my heart with one penetrating look into my
diamond mind.
And all through the night I thought of you.
I thought of dancing and smiling so much my cheeks were stained with infinite happiness and then
I realize,
as I awake from this blissful dream,
I'm falling in love--
I'm falling wholeheartedly,
body dancing,
soul freeing,
in love with you.
How do you do that?
-k.p.b.
{Written for a nameless, happy night in October I shall never forget as long as I live.}
written february ninth, 11:31AM
