Sashaying, a little too much rouge and catching
all the attention. You can almost envision
a push-up bra and some lacy under-
things, blowing kisses as it passes by.
You divert your eyes
like you do for homeless children and burn victims.
Almost ashamed, almost a train wreck.
Steps on your feet, prancing with attention-whore
glory and titters behind its hand at your
little mistakes as if it wasn't a party to them
but you know, this moment
this brazen display of immodesty working the room
before you
is everything that makes you cringe, slinking
into corners and slips of shadows--
creates those downcast eyes that know the shapes of people's
feet more than the shade of blush
when you look directly at them. Those hurried
excuses. And you try to talk the moment down
soft voice and caressing words
but it's more cocaine than Valium, speed-balling right
into the spotlight and looking to give rise
to scandal more than
looking
for an apology.
Adding your comment:
and one for you.
Well, if this is a train wreck, then I'm one of those sick puppies who stops to watch the action. 
What a powerhouse of a penning, Mel. How wondrous to see a new posting from you, Sweetie. Do more, pleeeeeease??? 
This reminds me of too much. 
