-Jocelyn-

I saw Jocelyn last night,— she didn’t see me

and we passed one another each with a measured purpose.

In the beginning with "One Summer Night" in play

she'd pivot on her leather flats to meet me and with unified

movement we pushed and pulled ourselves into the first, miraculous

steps of the dance.

Thrust of destination,–– as young as the song's beginning

the sweat of her brow at my mouth, the sweat of her mouth

on my neck, forward into the crowded plain of the dance-floor

navigating between and through the others of our kind,––

brushing against them as they brushed themselves against us.

And I saw Jocelyn last night,—

grey as I am grey, heavy as I am heavy, into the sharp florescence,

clinging to squealing carts, drifting one from the other,

widening the distance between "One Summer Night" and the canned-

goods aisle promoting pitted black olives and pickled beets.