As You Know, Two to Tango
Somewhere along the line a brilliant therapist
or a sultry musician said it takes two to tango.
I imagine myself in perfect step with you as we
strut our stuff around the dance floor. In this
moment, I celebrate your quirkiness, your star-
reasoned laugh, that time you said on Friday
it would snow this coming Wednesday, and it did,
a hell of a storm, high winded madness, sidewalks
iced and angry. I’m thinking, the way all music
moves through you – up from your heart, pumped
into your slender fingers; and when you lay a hand
on me what is old is out of date, what is foggy
in my head is cleared up, the forgotten things of full
beauty are allowed; yes, it takes two, tender two
entangled near the Seine; there we race to see
the sun rise, to convince strangers a new earth
has appeared and to feel a thirst like blue-fire
and to laugh wild: “we’re not here only for
the wine.” And later in the same day take the pink
flanks of the night clouds, wrap them around our
shoulders, sharing our thoughts on the uncrowded
hills where tombstones seem strangely charming,
art in their own way, carved rock telling us
the tango truly paid off, angels atop granite
concerned about our safety, reminding us in tender
tones to visit Montmarte, and there to fall in with
more music and feed on love all over again.
-30-
© Cary B. Ziter
Cary B. Ziter is the author of several published books for young readers. Prior to his retirement he worked for the New York State Tax Department, Exxon and IBM, including long-term assignments in Paris and Hong Kong. He earned his master’s in literature from Bennington College. His poetry has appeared in The Pointed Circle, Blueline, the Front Range Review, California Quarterly, The New Croton Review and other literary journals. He and his wife, Jozi, live in New York’s Hudson Valley region.
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