It had us like fever,
humid and dark
in the back of that bar.
You, in that linen.
Me, in that dress.
Laughing at our waiter
with his dancing mustache
when he teased us
leaving half-drunk bottles
on the table
for something more intoxicating.
We were our own revolution.
A blaze of flower in my hair,
your melt-me smile,
and
our favorite salsa record,
volume just right.
For Shay’s WGWL
It's gotten so that, when I see you've posted, it's like a special treat in my day. Here, you've described the scene so vividly, Jennifer. The dancing mustache, the half-drunk bottles, his linen and your blaze of flower. You put the reader right there, and it's such an agreeable place to be taken to. For a long time, I've had a fascination with Havana and would love to be able to visit there. I have Canadian friends for whom it is an easy vacation. Anyway, I make do with my Cuban jazz music and my imagination... and marvelous poems like this one. I'm so glad that you've become a Listy!
ReplyDeleteYou took me right into that moment and I could see it all so vividly. Loved so many things: the dancing mustache, the flower and melt-me smile. "We were our own revolution." Loved it!
ReplyDeleteI felt like I was there. "We were our own revolution."
ReplyDeleteWonderful!
Intoxicating! Makes my heart race, I can feel the humid air and smell the scent of your perfume as feel your embrace
ReplyDelete