|TFR Home Page||Contents||Prev. Page||Next Page||Comments|
We Danced Almost Naked in the Rain
By Bonnie Enes
A summer day
we baked in the sun
a storm broke
covered with pine needles
we laughed and danced in the downpour
till washed clean
then on to the restaurant
hurried in wearing bathing suits
changed in the bathroom
I almost bought your joyfulness.
Almost bought your passion
those steaming nights
at my place on the river
humidity like a rain forest
we slid off each other
through August summer nights.
Almost bought your patience
when camping with Fred Cat
we sat up late by the campfire
till he returned
from a day of hunting
laid his present at our bare feet.
Almost bought your humor
after Fred Cat
left dusty paw prints on all the cars
we went to town
bought Grocho Marx plastic glasses
wore them back
to the campground
so no one would recognize us.
Storm clouds brewed on our horizon
keeping company with her pastel walls
in the cellar
humming things out of wood
spat against each other
treaded up and down the cellar stairs.
While camping, you tried to give up smoking
you forgot to wear the patch
danced around the car
demolished the bee
who frantically scrambled up the windshield
while I frantically tried to save him
I was almost sold.
© Copyright 1997, 2020, The Fairfield Review Inc., All Rights Reserved.
Document last modified on: 09/25/2005