My poems are morphing into short stories so this could be a short story with short lines -- the story poem.
rendezvous to dance on the Aloha deck
as the calm Atlantic oozed by
at twenty knots, two thousand miles from shore.
She was with her aging mother
who stumbled across a theater seat
and reached for my hand
to steady herself.
"May I have permission to dance
with your daughter," I asked.
"I don't care, she never listens
to anything I say."
When everybody caught
their breath, I said, "Well,
how about it, mom doesn't
seem to mind."
"Alright." We walked out
of the theater all three of us
holding hands as the floor
tilted with an Atlantic swell.
We brought mother to the
elevator doors where mother
and daughter experienced a
catharsis staring at each other
as two squirrels. "I love you mom,"
she said with some desperation
peering into her mother's face.
Finally the elevator swallowed
the mother and we were together.
"Well, shall we?" I said and
offered my hand. She accepted it
with a cold grasp.
We set off briskly to the
Aloha deck, twelve stories
above the sea. We arrived
at the deserted dance lounge
as if there were no lifeboats
left on the Titanic and the musicians
remained to serenade the doomed.
We could only dance our way
into eternity where according to
promotion videos, fifty bodies
were supposed to be gyrating
on this dance floor
but here the DJ was
playing songs dutifully
to no one under the stars.
The dance floor was a shining
flat continent in the middle
of the ocean, in a parallel universe
of the space time continuum
in the middle of the night.
I held her cold hand dragging her
it seemed to a sofa
so we could get comfortable
talking in a maroon lit dream
that was not a dream.
"I'm a very bad dancer,"
she said in that American way.
She had Cleopatra's face which
could launch a thousand ships
while dancing like a crab.
Our eyes met and I said,
"You're beautiful."
"Thank you," was her response.
"I missed you at water color class."
"Mom and I stayed around
the state room today,
we were feeling a bit sick."
"The ship was rolling."
She was quiet.
"Shall we give it a try?"
"Okay."
"Play 'Wind Beneath my Wings,"
I told the D.J.
The soft strains filled the warm
Atlantic breeze as a perfume.
as I escorted her out to the dance
floor in her diamond studded sandals
and slacks with transparent bell bottoms.
She gripped my waist with her right hand
and my right and with her left.
We tried to budge a bit --
the only two people in the world
dancing in the middle of the sea
in the middle of the night.
"You can't step on my toes!"
She said this seriously.
"I understand," I said as we
stood there as if painted by
Pablo Picasso getting over Olga.
"Let me show you social dance
position." I said amicably.
"Here put your hand on my shoulder."
She did and we managed to
shuffle around as her breast
felt hard against my chest.
Her hand became warm as the
song came to an end.
Before we untangled ourselves,
another slow tune got going.
The D.J. knew his work on the Titanic.
"Does this mean we dance again?"
"Yes," I said, "it does."
We shuffled without incident
through the song and I held her
close. I whispered,
"We're in the middle of the Atlantic."
"We are."
"We're so small.
"We are."
"There are no laws out here."
"Maybe a few."
"Maybe a few."
The song ended and we sat down
where our drinks were waiting.
Her drink was cranberry juice
mine was a double Bombay Gin and Tonic.
We got comfortable.
I took a swig of my drink.
"What shall we do tomorrow?"
She got serious.
"THIS CRUISE IS ABOUT MY MOTHER."
"It's a long cruise."
"Yes, it is, I have to leave now."
She drained her drink.
"I'll escort you back."
"To the elevator."
"To the elevator."
I held her warm hand as we walked.
She spoke up.
"Don't fall for me."
"That's not possible."
"Why?"
"Because I already have fallen for you."
She barked a short laugh
which I refused to hear.
We stood at the elevator and
I was drawn forward to her face.
"Good night!" She said abruptly.
I pulled up short and touched her back.
"I'm glad I bumped into you today."
"So am I." The elevator opened
and she vanished as if beamed up
to somewhere on the Enterprise.
I walked out on the promenade deck
to inhale the Atlantic air which
for some reason I could not smell
in a parallel universe. I leaned
over the rail like Cary Grant
with my hair savagely parted saying,
"I'm really in love," as the goddamned
smooth sea oozed by at twenty knots.
Poetry by Peter J. Kautsky
Read 723 times
Written on 2012-05-27 at 03:33
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Print text
Midnight Dance
She consented to the midnightrendezvous to dance on the Aloha deck
as the calm Atlantic oozed by
at twenty knots, two thousand miles from shore.
She was with her aging mother
who stumbled across a theater seat
and reached for my hand
to steady herself.
"May I have permission to dance
with your daughter," I asked.
"I don't care, she never listens
to anything I say."
When everybody caught
their breath, I said, "Well,
how about it, mom doesn't
seem to mind."
"Alright." We walked out
of the theater all three of us
holding hands as the floor
tilted with an Atlantic swell.
We brought mother to the
elevator doors where mother
and daughter experienced a
catharsis staring at each other
as two squirrels. "I love you mom,"
she said with some desperation
peering into her mother's face.
Finally the elevator swallowed
the mother and we were together.
"Well, shall we?" I said and
offered my hand. She accepted it
with a cold grasp.
We set off briskly to the
Aloha deck, twelve stories
above the sea. We arrived
at the deserted dance lounge
as if there were no lifeboats
left on the Titanic and the musicians
remained to serenade the doomed.
We could only dance our way
into eternity where according to
promotion videos, fifty bodies
were supposed to be gyrating
on this dance floor
but here the DJ was
playing songs dutifully
to no one under the stars.
The dance floor was a shining
flat continent in the middle
of the ocean, in a parallel universe
of the space time continuum
in the middle of the night.
I held her cold hand dragging her
it seemed to a sofa
so we could get comfortable
talking in a maroon lit dream
that was not a dream.
"I'm a very bad dancer,"
she said in that American way.
She had Cleopatra's face which
could launch a thousand ships
while dancing like a crab.
Our eyes met and I said,
"You're beautiful."
"Thank you," was her response.
"I missed you at water color class."
"Mom and I stayed around
the state room today,
we were feeling a bit sick."
"The ship was rolling."
She was quiet.
"Shall we give it a try?"
"Okay."
"Play 'Wind Beneath my Wings,"
I told the D.J.
The soft strains filled the warm
Atlantic breeze as a perfume.
as I escorted her out to the dance
floor in her diamond studded sandals
and slacks with transparent bell bottoms.
She gripped my waist with her right hand
and my right and with her left.
We tried to budge a bit --
the only two people in the world
dancing in the middle of the sea
in the middle of the night.
"You can't step on my toes!"
She said this seriously.
"I understand," I said as we
stood there as if painted by
Pablo Picasso getting over Olga.
"Let me show you social dance
position." I said amicably.
"Here put your hand on my shoulder."
She did and we managed to
shuffle around as her breast
felt hard against my chest.
Her hand became warm as the
song came to an end.
Before we untangled ourselves,
another slow tune got going.
The D.J. knew his work on the Titanic.
"Does this mean we dance again?"
"Yes," I said, "it does."
We shuffled without incident
through the song and I held her
close. I whispered,
"We're in the middle of the Atlantic."
"We are."
"We're so small.
"We are."
"There are no laws out here."
"Maybe a few."
"Maybe a few."
The song ended and we sat down
where our drinks were waiting.
Her drink was cranberry juice
mine was a double Bombay Gin and Tonic.
We got comfortable.
I took a swig of my drink.
"What shall we do tomorrow?"
She got serious.
"THIS CRUISE IS ABOUT MY MOTHER."
"It's a long cruise."
"Yes, it is, I have to leave now."
She drained her drink.
"I'll escort you back."
"To the elevator."
"To the elevator."
I held her warm hand as we walked.
She spoke up.
"Don't fall for me."
"That's not possible."
"Why?"
"Because I already have fallen for you."
She barked a short laugh
which I refused to hear.
We stood at the elevator and
I was drawn forward to her face.
"Good night!" She said abruptly.
I pulled up short and touched her back.
"I'm glad I bumped into you today."
"So am I." The elevator opened
and she vanished as if beamed up
to somewhere on the Enterprise.
I walked out on the promenade deck
to inhale the Atlantic air which
for some reason I could not smell
in a parallel universe. I leaned
over the rail like Cary Grant
with my hair savagely parted saying,
"I'm really in love," as the goddamned
smooth sea oozed by at twenty knots.
Poetry by Peter J. Kautsky
Read 723 times
Written on 2012-05-27 at 03:33
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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