Poetry · Writing

Dance

Swiveling heads spinning through cryptic nights to docile trumpets. Fleeting drums signals the new round for new partners. Heads continuously swivel without partners and without the trumpets. She laughs and grips tight his triceps at a truly unappealing jape of her new co-partner. The round is stale and the exit is swift into the night for tea and crumpets. She says tonight we will dance again and I will be your partner. Inquiring the bottom of his wallet for the coin for the dance and for his partner the beautiful strumpet.

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