Dark and Dangerous Like a Secret
I'm sitting alone at a dance club bar.
Sometimes a man approaches one of the tables,
inviting the women there to join his own little group
for drinks, laughs and conversation.
And for whatever is to follow. . .
One man sits alone at his own little table.
His hair is jet black and greased back,
except for some ebony locks
falling loosely to the left side of his forehead,
a few of them covering half his left eye.
Despite (or because of?)his James Dean hooligan look,
he is attractive; his face is dark and dangerous like a secret.
Something flashes in my mind -his mouth pressed hard against mine,
and we are alone in the moonless night.
He looks up and notices me noticing him.
Inwardly I groan. I’m interested, but how obvious can I be?
He saunters toward me, but before I can hear what he is going to say,
I wake up in the sweltering heat of my bedroom.
The man in my dream has fled, and I lie there half-awake,
my mind filled with shadows dark and dangerous like a secret.
June 5, 2018
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