TANGO DANCER

A MAN AND A TANGO DANCER.

She could tango ok,
But man did she have

A tongue on her; she
Could have drained

The Black Sea with her
Endless talk, could have

Driven men over the hill
And into the river out of

Sheer desperation to get
Away from her constant

Chatter. Henry sips his
Drink and watches her

Tango. Her hips are far
Beyond anything he’s

Seen in a while; the way
She moves moves him,

Sets him on fire with
Desire. He leans back

In the chair; smokes a
Cigar; watches her through

The smoke, the haze. Man
Can she move; her legs

Are to die for; her thighs
Are to dream of lying

Between; her arms for
Embracing and when she

Finishes the dance and
Comes over to his table,

He’ll make small talk
Just to have her close

A little longer, studying
Her eyes as Columbus

Did on his first sight of
Land and beneath the table,

He will dream and wish to
Take hold of her ring

Encrusted small, but
Oh, God blessed hand.