Zoë

She burst onto the scene, heavy
With jazz dripping off her promenade,
All a-swish with gin and smoke,
And those hoop bracelets swinging,
Pulling in boys hot to trot,
Slicked back geeks hoping for a peek
Behind her white framed shades,
And a flash and a thrill up their legs
To take home.
One, two, three, four,
Each step sang a far out note,
So that even stiffs dropped their politics,
Skirts and fags drew a jealous breath,
And no one dared look away
While she cut a line through the crowd,
Crossed that red rope barrier,
And left us,
A melody fading in the air.


Copyright (c) 2008 Jay Fuller