Subtle Exchange and the Neuro-Dancers

His fingers curve gently around mine 

during the exchange of

a pack of cigarettes

they hold softly -

for a moment too long to be a simple

exchange

but a moment not as long as I 

silently wish

He diverts my attention to his touch

long enough

for him to slide the pack away

from my fingers -

like a magician,

he leaves me astounded

he leaves me in awe of his subtle artist's touch

Every move he makes seems somehow to have

a purpose

not a deep, serious intention

or a powerful, mystifying meaning

just a simple purpose

to open a few of my hidden channels

somehow, he knows just the combination

Yes

sit there

look reserved

look like we're being hesitant

only we know of these subtle exchanges

we are the only ones who need know

of the contact

As we look into the pack of Camels,

we slip temporarily into a world

of little, drunken neuro-dancers

who travel up through the skin

like a small band of gypsies

to any observer, we would appear to be 

engrossed in the cigarettes

but the cigarettes are quite removed

from our minds

The brush of knee against knee

whisk, whisk

it sends a party to my mind

should I move an inch closer?

or would that offend?

I never know

I only guess

The feeling progresses

deep, shallow, barely there,

intense, piercing,

then hollow

then overwhelming

then gone

Don't ask me who I am

don't ask me why I'm here

but meet me at the movies

I've got a subtle exchange for you

Here comes the hard part:

I'd like to know what you're thinking

but I'll wait

I'll wait for the message in a smile

or in a look

whisk, whisk

the knees keep their appointment

the pack of Camels returns to the pocket

the neuro-dancers sober up

but they'll be at the movies tomorrow

Like a magician

he slips out the door

I wonder. . .

the party moves into my imagination

without asking permission

I contemplate everything that IT IS

and everything that IT COULD BE

I come to no conclusions

nevertheless, I am fascinated

(whisk, whisk)

I reenact the evening in my mind

and I decide:

I'll wait for the movies tomorrow

I'll not think about it tonight

I can't, for the sake of my sanity

(whisk, whisk)

the party retreats

but deep within,

I still feel EVERYTHING THAT WAS 

about the evening

Yes

leave now, before it's too late

leave others to guess at our private affair

how can they know?

how can they perceive?

today, only we see

here, it is a memory

here, a feeling

Expectingly, we wait

for a day that is a lifetime

for tomorrow, it will come again

the answer - another subtle exchange

another party for the dancers who spend

so much time waiting

tomorrow, again, he'll captivate me;

someday, like a magician,

it may - instead of the Camels - 

be my heart that's taken

(whisk, whisk)

I sigh and turn out the light

and wait for tomorrow's electric surprises

Subtle Exchange and the Neuro-Dancers. . .

- Feb. 4, 1985, A.D.