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How To Dance Without Touching

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The serpentine rhythm of the tango begins

     And you extend the invitation.

I give you my hand and

     You quickly withdraw yours.

Your fingers curve across my back,

     Dig in for a firmer grip

     And my response is fear.

(image used with permission from www.morguefile.com)

I smell your sweat

     Like damp fishes

Living in dark curling rivers

     Along the sides of your face,

     On the nape,

     Streambeds traveling your forehead,

     Collecting in the notch of your chest.

Taunting me.

Of its own accord, my face 

     Lays down in the crook of your neck.

But our bodies do not touch.

I lift my head;

     You don’t smile but meet my eyes

     With the barest widening of the whites.

For once, I don’t look away.

My hand encircles your neck.

     You shift my weight, our legs intermingle.

No good can come of this.

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