To seek more magic

“Cast your dancing spell my way,

I promise to go under it,”

the man sang and a friend,

across the room said,

“Those are two of the best lines

I ever heard.” I pretended

to agree, but all the time thinking

I’m not worthy, you’re not,

we’re not worthy.

I ached to throw wide

the doors of perception,

yielded to the tears

of solitude and great notions,

dived so deep,

every breath was fraught,

every way from there was up,

and, he said, as though he knew

what I was thinking,

“That thought should give you courage.”

I cried then, anything but brave,

turned to see my lovely girl nearby,

my fingers slow and tender, a stretch

to reach her, the glow around her

leaking colors I had never seen before,

leaking colors her to me,

and then she was gone,

snake woman shedding her dress,

a relic left behind

and, he said to me, as though he knew

what I was thinking, “What remains of her,

skin and scent and visions,

should give you comfort.”

I pretended to agree,

before I told him

“I have loved you longer than I can count,

but it is time to journey on.”

He looked at me. “May that thought

give you wings,” he said.

We briefly lingered, lips to lips,

before I fell again

beneath that dancing spell

and, remembering the promise

I had made, worthy or not,

left to seek more magic.