Danny Paola Knew How to Dance Slow


    I worked hard on my make-up
    a touch of mascara
    in Coty "Deep Deep Brown"
    and a hint of shimmer
    carefully crossing my lips
    in "Pink Pastel"
    (Revlon!)
    and a spritz of "Midnight"
    (floral and light)
    then the dress
    that Mama picked out
    in icicle blue
    in the style of a decade
    that only she knew.


    In the American Legion Hall,
    in old wooden theater seats
    (up against the wall),
    hands folded,
    next to the blonde girl chewing her hair
    my face frozen
    (well, it went with my dress)
    looking at the floor
    waiting to go home
    waiting for a miracle
    to leave by the back door
    The pretty girls smirked,
    and the chaperone biddies
    said no one had worn that dress
    since the fifties.


    Then Danny Paola with his heels
    together
    and his glasses
    straight
    and he smiled the way older men do.
    I put my hands up
    as Miss MacLamore taught
    but the music stopped (Oh no!)
    and time stood still.
    Danny took my arms
    and wrapped them round his waist
    and I blushed so hot
    and my heart so raced,
    but when the music started
    he held me close and rocked me, too
    the way Italian men do
    (Do their fathers tell them?
    Or maybe they just know.)
    Danny Paola knew how to dance slow.



    ~XineAnn