She sat Indian-style on the barcalounger
clacking her castanets, singing,
“what have you drawn me today?”
He could only watch
as she twisted and swiveled in the seat
as if churning butter with her hips
and he thought about when he had been
seasick on the ferry
and wished for mountains.
Now, he had all the heights he ever wanted
just outside their home
but could only watch
his heart twist in a figure-eight pattern
to the sound of castanets and laughter.
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