Is what you told me with
my ear in your teeth, you had
stopped spinning but Prince didn’t get the memo
and he continued even as we stood
clinging; I tried then to remember
how you spun, how your forearm felt,
the weight of your foot on mine—it’s all
going away too fast.
Which fingers stayed touching as you twirled?
How many rotations about the candle-sun?
The angle of our orbit?
As if sensing questions your eyes catch mine;
I am swept away in undertow memory.
We’re swaying so awkwardly on
the gym floor in middle school; waltzing
in the tent during a rainstorm with
the lantern on the ground painting
you yellow from the ankles on up;
slow dancing and making out in the
St. Vincent de Paul among all the old TVs
soundlessly projecting Superman cartoons
and an unnamed John Wayne flick
in glorious grainy technicolor behind our backs; rocking the car of the Ferris wheel,
the carnie giving us a dirty look
and that mood ring you won me
its soft pink as we rock.
Prince fades to Cat Stevens.
You pull back and spin me and kiss me and boogie on,
No stopping now; we’ll both be pumpkins by morning.