Monday, June 15, 2020

Bonaparte's Retreat

Met a contradance friend on the street last night.
We swung at a distance.
Gents to the right,
gals to the left
of the median. Bad at listening
to the calls—white-throated sparrow in a meadow at night.
Swinging holding each other tight—
old-time love at first sight, when
we both went to the dance that night.
Gents turn left, gals right,
like blackbirds and thrushes.
                                           But now we don’t
see each other anymore because of the covid virus,
though I try to throw my twittering
voice from my lonely porch
out to all my distanced friends tonight,
feeling love-lorn like Tristan
and Isolde—oed und leer the night!
But all my dancing friends are with me tonight,

right left, left right.