(Notes from a Saturday Night)
she’s my gypsy boy dancing with me, stealing hearts on stage
flying backstage up and down stairs past boozing friends
biting her tongue with wayward professors and cutting in line, (damn!)
letting me dress her as a disco queen to dance with me.
i’m droppin it to her hips as she’s out dancing the drag queens,
wearing out the soles of her high heels
without misplacing the plunge falling down to her naval.
shhhhhhh! we aren’t really dressed for the drag-ball…she really is this pretty. (and she always dresses like this)
i try to find my bed but damn it, she’s found more music,
dancing as a new audience watches,
pinning my back against the wall,
the crowd is screaming.
i’m covering my chest, she’s rolling her hips,
creaking bones with me.
in the morning my memories feel as good as my night dreams
and i can’t remember if it was really her that rolled over to whisper the secret i already knew…
that you could dance forever like this
because your body is made of music.