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Emily K Fisk
English Accents get the Guy: a Wednesday night at Chuck’s
I met you, my voice not my own,
with introduction forced upon us and
you spun circles around me as I watched in awe from awkward footing.
You asked me to dance.
In a sincere, old-fashioned ‘
I actually just want to dance with you
that felt foreign but wanted so bad to be familiar.
Cautiously taking my hand you spun me into your circle and
I haven’t wanted to stop spinning since.
Something about your smile feels like home.
It made me forget the clock and other faces –
hands stood still as yours held mine
your eyes held me.
rang through the emptying bar’s air
because our conversation missed its cue by too many minutes.
The alcohol mirage faded as the lights began to show face
and it dawned on me I wasn’t dreaming.
Though it still didn’t seem so in the morning.
Lovers like you don’t just walk into my life.
I tried to piece together the puzzle fragments of your face
from dimming memories of the night past,
desperately wanting to remember the man who made me forget.
But I couldn’t forget that initial feeling,
nor shake the connection that just kind of clicked when I looked into your eyes,
the moment I found myself in the crease of your smile.
Emily K Fisk
Buffalo; Syracuse; Boston
(Buffalo; Syracuse; Boston)
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