Slow Dance
The dance is made from gestures toward satisfaction
that never fully satisfy
Falsetto to taffy-pull the time
and plaintive voice full of almost-love
Arms draped around necks and waists in the dark
and the leaning together of bodies
This can be said, and what can be said
is only euphemism
Everywhere there are bodies clanging together
there will one day be no bodies
Every body you give yourself to
will crumble
As with most things pleasure ends
That is how we come to know it
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