Daniel in exquisite style –
cut coat, silk vest, breeches mama called
unseemly –
reaches out an elegant hand,
never soft,
always ready,
a blatant invitation
to dance.
Palm down, chin up –
I know what they said of me,
vowed to embrace it –
my fingers brush his
with memory and promise
as I glide,
the height of fashion,
the envy of glassy-eyed ladies,
in a decadent waltz.
Musicians tremble
as we slowly promenade
past the fine, down-slumping citizens
who failed to recognize
the cost of a social slight.
We allow the orchestra to flee,
then bar the doors
and contemplate
the remaining few.
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