He is propped on all fours <br />when I arrive - <br />almond eyes grave, <br />face strangely serious. <br /> <br />I smile and say hello. <br />He doesn't respond at first <br />but continues to stare - <br />like a deer <br />cautious, intent. <br /> <br />I kneel before him <br />(not too close) <br />and show him my new red nails. <br />He moves a little closer <br /> <br />I pick him up <br />and press his warm, sunny body <br />against mine. <br /> <br />He doesn't resist <br />and for several minutes <br />not a sound passes between us. <br /> <br />Later at the tavern <br />he laughs, hiding his lips. <br />I have abandoned my new pink glasses. <br />He has my chin in his mouth. <br /> <br />I carry him to the dance floor <br />His laughter is infectious. <br />We glide across the parquetry, <br />Dean Martin spins on the turntable.<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dancing-with-dylan/
