You are perfect…

You are perfect
Old Poet wrote words for a pretty dancer at the Stray Cat lounge, she is dancing bare-footed and alone on the lonely dance floor..
“What is wrong, what is right, she doesn’t know anymore.
She is dancing alone again,
she tossed off her shoes,
Swaying and moving with the tempting Jazz songs.
Her bare feet caressing the dance floor and her eyes are closed.
She is dreaming, maybe wishing.
Sometimes beautiful things are broken and cannot be fixed.”
He watched her dance. Auburn hair beauty with the sad eyes. He wondered what journey and disappointments led her here? She turned to him and her eyes questioned his attention. She was painted perfect, her face covered in the part of the devil and the heartless. She walked to him, took his journal, she read the words slow and easy. He looked at her sad brown eyes and sleeveless black dress, a mini-skirt allowing him to see firm and pretty legs. She looked up and she asked.
Are you are the Hemingway of the Stray Cat lounge? You believe this is me? He smiled and he asked. What is your killer tonight? I’m drinking the Long Island ice teas, easy on the taste and make us believe. We are okay. She smiled and she said. Can you forget? I will accept the charity of the drink and my name is Susie. Divorced yesterday, kids, weighted down and very lonely.
He smiled and he told her, my name is Johnnie. My pleasure to know you. She took his journal. She read and read his words. She didn’t speak,  after three Long Island ice teas. She looked-up and she asked. Do you believe in love? I did once. Love is rarely sweet and never a happy ending. Please tell me, what is wrong and what is right? Poetry man, I need the truth. I need the truth, I need a sweet story, something dirty and arousing. Some words to ignite a sleeping heart.
He told her. Pretty lady, pretty words don’t mean pretty heart, all of us like to swim deeply in the fire of the liar’s prayer. I love you more, I love you less. We love the midnight dance, the midnight calls, please  come to me. And we love the early morning escape. We want everything and we want nothing.
She asked him to go to the private seats near the Jazz band and she took his right hand, she walked slowly and she was swaying slowly with the good song. He sat down and she sat on  his lap, wrapped her arms around him, forcing her face into his neck and her legs encircle his legs. She whispered, please hold me like you love me. Make me feel wonderful and beautiful. Tears began to fall on her beautiful face.
He brought her closer and he kissed away her tears, he whispered. Love be damns, love be blessed. You are a beautiful and honorable lady. The bad days will be forgotten one day. A young man will steal your heart and you will be okay sweet Susie. She looked at him, her eyes filled with a new wildness. She question him. Could you love me?
Would you stay with me forever? He smiled, kissed her wet and warm sweet lips, tasted the Long island ice teas and he kissed her neck. If I was thirty years younger, braver and not so damn wise. I would steal you away, make your days and nights wonderful and sweet. You are a Spring Flower. You will rise above the regret and sadness. The bad days will make the good days sweeter.
She laughed at his words. Is it fear or wisdom? Thank you Johnnie. You are my ambrosia in my world of shit. Will you befriend me dear Poet. I was locked-up in deep storage, I need someone to make me feel I have some value and  to whisper sweet love words to me.
He brought her closer, kissed her a dozen times and he whispered. If you need me. I would be honored to be blessed by the kindness of a beautiful woman. She smiled and she demanded a dance..
The song, “I will play the blues for you”, was playing.  She wrapped her body tightly against him and she moved slow and easy with the song. She whispered. Thank you. He whispered to her. You are perfect.
                               John Castellenas/Coyote