The Slow Dances

Convulsions,
Developments that he never,
anticipated,
cheggit,
OoooO

She thought about how it might have been,
and he wondered how it must have been,
she spent her days travelling,
he wished he could remember his travails,
she understood,
he defenestrated all notions of even comprehending.

The smooth jazz trumpet,
gave his heart a fillip,
OoooO
That's the way he liked to be touched,

OoooO
Her every dance made him fantacise,
And there were places
places that he let his eyes roam to,
that wouldn't have been
allowed in public places,
his mind wondered,
his soul a mess of desiry thirst,
tonight he would drink from the cup,
of lonely self-satisfaction.

The CRASHING, SCREAMING halt,
that brought him to his senses,
and awakened him to the light of,
Manly rationality,
the awareness that
it was a sweet, sober and yet melancholic
finish
like Valrhona. It left no trace of an aftertaste,
just the bittersweet memory.

He stood,
and raised his appendages,
and applauded,
the woman who brought to life all the,
pains, all the furies, the malcontents, the
described and impossible.

He knew it was time to go,
and yet he lingered,
his eyes straying,
one last time to
the slow dance,
record.