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Dancing, Dating … Women
You must not ever see Paul again.
Years after his death she told me that
her husband had met multitudes of her boyfriends
but singled me alone for banishment from her attention.
You make other people look shabby.
You run like a god.
I want to have your baby.
The sexiest man I’ve ever met
She’s realigned, so I don’t name her.
The Michelanglo of erotica
A perfect gentleman
People will talk.
by my nintey-year-old friend Lois as I sat next to her.
“People always talk,” I replied.
Last night you made a lot of women happy.
as usual, with a dozen or more widowed seniors
Are you sure Jan doesn’t mind you dancing with all us wild women?
You must have been dancing since you were one year old!
Women must love to dance with you.
“And do other things too,” I added.
No one dances like you, Paul.
I don’t know anything that I didn’t learn from you, Paul.
No one can keep up with you.
that the tempo was too quick to dance Cotton Eyed Joe safely
Get over to the other side of the dance floor, the women are waiting for you.
I wish I had an accountant instead of an anarchist.
prior to addressing her taxes
I think all women fascinate you.
Paul will never grow old.
as the three of us danced CottonEyed Joe
Will you fill both of my tanks?
I could chip in a couple of bucks toward her gas tank.
I enjoyed it anyway.
Linedancing, my limbs and extensions whirling freely as usual, my hand had brushed against Sandy’s adorable backside.
I said that If I’d know I was going to stroke her bottom by accident, I’d have slowed down and done it deliberately.
That’s OK, she said, I enjoyed it anyway.
I thought my response was pretty cute, but her’s was adorable.
I’m gonna throw you down on the bathroom floor and sit on you.
I then said, “Wow, what a compliment!” to which she replied,
“He’s got nothing on you, Honey.”
You came in first. … We gave you second place too.
Boot Scootin’ Boogie man!
Did you teach the gecko to dance? You know, on TV?
Lake Placid American Legion
You’re such a strong leader, you make any woman look good on the dance floor.
Carole: You’re very intense.
pk: I try not to frighten people, but it’s no good, I frighten them anyway.
Und now let’s go back stage and fuck ‘zem.
She said that during the curtain calls, not whispering:
I think she wanted to be heard:
(and her and me admired, lusted for, along with the dancers).
(I bet we were.)
Widow. Ooo, I like your friend Paul.
Jan. You can’t have him.
Oh, poor gal, a beauty herself: blond and willowy: died not long ago: 80ish.
She doesn’t know what she’s missing.
I’d invited our new neighbor to our dance. She sounded positive. Jan said, Your enemies haven’t gotten to her yet.
Then Jan asked for an update. I said the neighbor hasn’t spoken to me again.
Ah ha, Jan said. So now your enemies have gotten to her. She doesn’t know what she’s missing.
You make love just like a woman.
A real Dillinger
My grad school buddy then explained to me that John Dillinger was supposed to be really hung.
Kiss my ass.
He doesn’t salute the flag! Don’t let him in your house.
to my beloved Jan when I first met her
See? Sabotage is normal for talented independents.
My life has been devoted to trying to help. Like Jesus, the help I’ve received in trying to help, though not quite zero, has been overwhelmed by interference, sabotage, recrimination …
*Over time I add and subtract surnames here. I’ve just subtracted Carole’s surname, but add instead: Carole is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met: but she’s a friend, not a girlfriend, I’m her dance partner, not her lover. She’s my favorite alternate dance partner, one of my favorites ever. I think she too thinks it’s better to keep dancing, and love each other, than to get messy and risk everything. Jan knows I love her, Jan, best.
And there’s always a bunch of candidates for third. Hiding from trouble doesn’t mean trouble won’t arrive anyway.
Actually I’m very proud to frighten people however inappropriate the reaction. Michelangelo frightened people, when he was still very young.
Dickens had a housekeeper once too new to know not to interrupt him at work: she screamed, said she’d seen a monster. (She said his head was twice normal size: I believe her.)
(I’ve seen my own forearms swell up like Popeye’s, before my eyes. Why not Dickens’ head?)
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