PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

We talked about the dance,
she said. Is that all? Yes,
well she did mention that
her man was late home

from work sometimes
and she misses him
before she has to leave
for the dance show,

but that's all. I see,
Fred said. Nellie looked
at him, brushed her hair.
Her dancing is faltering,

Nellie said. As if she
had other things on her
mind. What other things?
he asked. How do I know?

She didn't say. Unless she
thinks her man is cheating
on her? Do you think he is?
Fred said. He's the type who

would, Nellie said. What's
the type who would? I don't
know, but you can tell, there's
something about him gives

me the creeps. Women's
intuition? he said. You could
say that, she said. How comes
she doesn't have that intuition,

too? Fred said. She's in love with
him, love blinds, she said.
What are you dancing, tonight?
he asked. Swam Lake, she said.

She finished brushing her hair
and poured him a scotch and ice
and prepared to leave. He watched
her as she put on her coat, her

fingers buttoning up, her eyes
watching her hands in action,
her tongue poking over her
lower lip.  He lifted his glass

of scotch, studied her ankles,
and had a long slow sip.