February 15 - Milonga

I want to be like the old couples in Buenos Aires,

Dancing a quiet milonga in an up stairs ballroom that has aged with the photographs and will not be refurbished

With a slight smile on my face as I curl my body into yours gracefully and casually, as though we have done this before and will continue until one of us dies quietly and the other is left alone

I do not need the impassioned tango of the class in the other half of the room,

The young people, moving as fast as the phones to which they seem addicted, ablaze with the 1 2, 123 of their music and their longing

No, I would like to move gently, like a lazy summer breeze over the plains,

Swaying with the memories of a life together

Of blackouts and literature and of a thousand first kisses

Letting you lead as though we know what we are doing

But we are not old and we do not live in a city.

We are young, and you know how to tango.

            But I first must learn the steps.