Book Of Firsts: First Waltz Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

We were gyratory
Athwart the dome.
You were pristine in your polka-dotted
Ebony dress,
And I was farce in my sullied white suit
And you called me a pilot
For I resembled one,
And I clandestinely called you a goddess
Though you are nothing more but
A mere mortal.

The music billowed all across
My ears of cusped avenues
And from the very first cascade
Of the clenched symphony,
I anxiously asked you for a dance,
And you went with me
And I knew the words to the song,
So I rested my chaffing lips to your forehead
And told you that I never knew
How tedious it was to need someone
Like you for it rendered me vulnerable
And insipid like the crisp yet stark volatile lunar beam.
The strobe lights were full with satisfaction,
And so is your face
Yet, from the very first waltz,
It felt as if, it was the last I’d ever get
From you.