The Ceroc Years - Number Two

Ode to a Knight and a Girl

My feet ache, and the pounding music pains
My soul, as though of cheap wine I had sipped,
Or reefer’d some moroccan to the grains,
A while back, and into drowsing slipped.
’Tis not through envy of thy nimble feet,
But being too nimble in thy nimbleness,
That thou, light-footèd elf-maid of fair face,
In some municipal seat
Of smoke-stained brown, and poor souls purposeless,
Spinnest around with long-leggèd grace.

O for a glass of water! This hath been
Warm’d for too long on some beer-spattered bar,
Tasting of sulphur and stained cabbage-green,
Stale, in a dirty, grease-smeared, plastic jar.
O for a partner with wild, swaying hips!
Wild as the true, my own Terpsichore;
With painted eye-lids, flutt’ring with intents,
And rose-red, pouting lips;
That I might dream in self-wrought trickery,
And have a one-to-one experience.

Abide! Abide! For I would dance with thee,
Not chaparoned by my wife or her mates,
But on the bed of my idolatry.
Though a dark voice bemuses and berates,
Trust me in the drop! Gentle is this knight;
And mayhap the D.J. will play our song,
Sandwich’d between that tortured, tuneless rap.
Yet Rock’n’Roll is right,
And even Line-Dance tunes doth skip along.
I’ve been there, done that - from Tango to Tap.

Breathless I watch thee; and for ever it seems
Have I been living in cloud-cuckoo land.
Call’d softly thy name in quixotic dreams
And took into the dance thy tender hand.
So, now if never – yield, and break the spell;
Let’s trip the light fantastic ere the end.
Thy blazing eyes could turn my hair to grey;
I sweat but never smell!
Still would’st thou spin, aloofness I’ll unbend;
As Mav’ricks sing, we’ll dance the night away!

Ceroc! The very word makes my heart thrill
And transports me to Elysium.
Let’s dance! Ere agèd limbs are drained of will,
As they are wont to be, in time to come.
Let’s dance! Let’s dance! Thy twinkling footsteps marked
’Cross my heart’s shadow, o’er the rosin’d floor,
Upon the stage – what nonsense, get a grip!
Where’s my old sports car parked?
Was she a vision or a closing door?
Fled is that dancer. Now I need a kip!