Under Sky, Under Moon

under sky, under moon

silk sand breezes

up the shoreline, past the dunes, the sea oats,

we sit on army green canvas chairs

that fold up neatly,

drink deep the ocean weary sighs.

pinkpurplebluegreen

lanterns bobble to the breezes cut time

and we–

under lights, under stars–

lumber out of rhythm

(no amount of liquor

erases our white dance mama skills)

you pulse to the beat of the disco ball

finger pointed straight up, whole arm swings down, back up and again.

i hear the humming of hip movements, imagine my flip-flops to heels

in the night, i dream of long red skirts twirling out

a sultry voice repeating:

samba, samba, samba.

then–

we laugh and collapseĀ into our chairs

and our familiar song.

 

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Moon Dance

Picture courtesy of Mark Askins

Last night,

Moon so close

I asked her for a dance.

Standing in silver grass

Almost knee-high,

We twirled

To the wind’s

Unsteady rhythms.

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