DANCING TWO NIGHTS
Cheryl T. Strauss (Cumming, Georgia)

The heat of crashing bodies
hangs frosted onto glass where
we write words backward
to people on the street.

I've always wondered how
monkeys feel
all zooed up.

Black lights inside
turn bleached hair to green with
vision allowed in bright violent bursts.
Your image shatters, then congeals
distorted fragments
you're not real.

Cracked brown leather hat
flops over your brow
hiding salt-and-pepper hair.
Hat meets shiny wire glasses
lounging on red, pear-shaped nose.
Clothes so correct for this place.
Jacket, jeans, suspenders
drape your skinny frame
hiding bones sharp as razors.

I hug you to a corner
pinned against a wall
and kiss you, teeth colliding.
Your lips bleeding
a ruby drop
an offering to me,
spinning webs.