To the woman in the green dress: Oklahoma City, December 24th…
She had me between ‘duh’ - and the nonchalant, sultry blur of her unruly hair; and the pouty, smouldering incandescence of her blood red lips; shimmering life-like in the dull, barely there blues and reds and flickering purples of the BeeJay’s mirror ball.
We were like two large - lumps of rock; boulders locked in the unwilling, eternal waltz of gravity; stuck in distant orbits around the crowded dance floor like as around a stranded, listless star. In the interludes between the mindless drone of the DJ’s songs, and the rude, insistent scratch of his beatbox our eyes weave and bob, like corks floating in a sea of ice cold beer.
But we never ever cross the invisible lines of propriety; and when the clock chimes 3.16 and the barman’s cleared throat sounds the final knell for our unwilling dance, we are still those self same rocks; in step, but still apart, with the cold, dark emptiness of impassive space and the memory of what might s between us