Flashback

The one song took me there.
All the way back
to a beer-soaked dance floor
and a dark, heavy-hipped italian girl.

Her wet, lightly-feathered face peered into mine
in half-lidded ecstasy.
Her smile, in my chest, 
exuded gin and virgin smoke.

We clutched and swayed 
above the dark expanse of planks.
What was murmured 
beneath the pregnant moon?
It eludes me now.


--John Wesley Lampe

Copyright (C) 2004 John Wesley Lampe