Last Dance.

I am and You are

tired.

This was a very long day
a very long  year:
our bodies, fragile
our feet, shod with wrong shoes
 the pavement,  unstable.


The music-
the same song we first heard on a jukebox
at the corner five- and- dime
where we sat
close to each other
hoping someone would ask the other to dance.

They are performing our song, I say, and stand up
in encouragement
swaying back and forth
threatening to dance by myself
if I have to.


The young  performers
pretend not to notice
the hunger in my eyes, the annoyance in my step.
To them
all
old people
are already dead.