You are very pretty,
dancing there,
while I’m dancing here;
we should be dancing
together.
I’m going to work my way in close
to touch, eyelash to fluttering
eyelash, a breath
on your cheek, so light,
like a fleeting glance, without breaking
stride from a glide.
Sweep you slowly,
oh, to kiss you deeply
across the floor, again
once more.
Whirl-twirl you
like hurricanes hitting
land with the beat of the band.
That’s the way we dance –
sabado –
that’s the way
the nights flow.
Hold your count,
I’ll meet you where you are,
when you turn, lock-
step, step spry.
Eye-to-eye.
Funny how these things can go,
sly sambas.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
