watching you dance
makes tasteless disco lights
transform
into a spotlight for you
time slows down
and the singers' voices sound slurred
and the music mixes like paint
into a thick syrupy substance
heavy, deep, and sticky,
dripping over slow-dancers' faces
until all I can see
are your rocking hips
and all I can hear
is the faint chiming
of your silver hoop earrings
against a matching necklace
like church bells in the distance-
a wedding, or a funeral
all the while, you dance
in the dusty spotlight only I can see.
I think a halo forms around your head
or maybe it's just the garish disco ball.
It is at moments like these that I fall back in love with you.
