3-23 Boys and Girls Like You and Me

when the last note is played,
the ford escapes
up the highway,
back to the "O.",
where the sun is beginning to smile
in the east, and it begins again,
a slow, steady, waltz,
the footsteps of the champagne men,
tucked into bed,
asleep, two by two,
hand in hand, they turn, awake,
into the piano,
strings pulling tight,
playing the keys,
beginning again, with the faltering,
tremolo of my arms,
when he lets go,
I am on the floor,
on the stairs, crystal shard bracelets,
twinkle on my wrists,
my pink dress is torn,
glitter falling down my cheeks,
I am drowning,
in the bright, blinding,
glamour of the trill,
turning inward,
till, one by one,
hand in hand,
picking me up,
they kiss me on the cheek,
dust off the glitter,
hand me back my crown,
and together,
two by two,
we sit down on the piano bench,
singing of champagne,
all the while, holding each other,
looking at the corners of the room,
where they waltz the ghosts,
into the walls,
clapping in rhythm,
one by one, hand in hand,
we bow to them, the piano picks
a key change, we leave the piano bench,
the tie from our tux, unraveled,
in colors swirling around our necks,
in our eyes, chandeliers of fire,
burn feverishly, low and soft,
careful now, careful now, we whisper,
to each other, hand in hand,
smoke gets in our eyes,
so we leave, two by two,
nodding to the stars above,
drinking the last of the champagne,
and
I curl into you.