The time on the oven says it’s almost four in the morning,
Lit up that neon green that only microwaves and ovens seem to know.
We are in my best friends kitchen without the lights on,
The window is open and the early morning’s air whispers goose bumps onto my forearms.
It is after wine and everyone else has gone to sleep, Quiet,
And we try to stifle our giggling, but not too hard. You ask me if I want to dance,
So.
We waltz in our socks from the linoleum to the carpet, swaying with the melody of the radiator and the harmony of our own jokes.
Your hand is strong holding mine,
Your torso quivers as you laugh.
Finally,
We tire.
You’re wearing Statue of David boxers,
And I watch you as you sleep.
I look to you,
then to the doorway with that tiny wooden cross above it, and back to you again
before I fall asleep-
still dancing.