Leave Your Hat On
I had a dream. You were in it. I was in it with
In this dream, this late summer dream,
born of angel wings and cobwebs,
of too many birthdays and graying hair,
I arrive in a bar from our days together,
body young and taut beneath that hat
you gave me, breasts ripe with hope.
I search for 'that' song on the juke...
The one about the hat.
Newman's version not Cocker's.
Newman does itóreal slow.
How many times did I dance it for you
in our moonlit room in the commune?
Piano building, Randy coaxing,
I kick off my shoes, climb onto a chair,
wiggle my hips.
Interest rises beneath every belt.
Bar stools implode.
The men toss clever lines to net this tease,
this wanton witch on a chair, but I dance
only for you, dear, hope the heat lures you
back one more time.
Song ending, absence overwhelming,
I rush past greedy fingers,
already transforming back into
an aging, dream-groggy woman
lost to the heart-breaking night.
Published in The
Outlaw Poetry Network May 2012
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