dancing with L
i saw her first
on the BMT line
the R train to be exact
heading uptown from 23rd to 57th street
she’s sitting… diagonally across from me
wearing bright red and white, candy-striped pants
balloon size, with a white tuxedo blouse and tiny red bow tie
her hair, flaming red
her face, like a fleshy, scandinavian beauty
full figured body
with a tiny waist i couldn’t resist
i get up, cross the train car, and sit down next to her
i feel like an intruder
“excuse, me, i usually don’t do this, but i really like the way you’re dressed”
right there on the RR uptown
l: “thank you”
period.
“did you make those pants?”
i feel something in the air
l: “yes”
“i could use a good costumer with a sense of style like that.”
that was true enough
l: “i’m pretty busy.”
“give me your phone number and i’ll call you… about costuming.”
l: “why don’t you give me yours?”
“okay.”
i do
49th street. right out the door. she’s gone
out of my life. i’ll never see her again.
57th street, my stop.
i get out and walk to the rear of the platform; exit at 55th street, near the carnegie deli
i walk past the hotel woodward
where i frugally reside with ex-cons and hollywood ghosts
it’s sunday
i’m going to studio 54 for a wrap party of karin bacon’s last “event”
i’ll never see her again
i make the turn onto 53rd and walk into a red-orange, blinding sunset over 9th avenue
the back entrance of 54 is here on 53rd
i’m walking down the block and somebody’s… waving to me up ahead
i think it’s me, because… there’s nobody else on the street
i’m squinting and they’re jumping up and down, waving
but i can’t see anything because of the sunset’s back light over the westside
i feel dumb, walking towards the back door of 54, not knowing who’s standing there waving at me
it’s… her
the beautiful red head with the candy striped pants
she’s standing there waiting for me at the back entrance to studio 54
wow!
l: “i’m sorry i was so aloof on the train. it’s just that… i get hit on by strangers all the time and i try to be careful.”
“i understand.”
l: “but i work for karin bacon all the time. i got off the train at 49th and walked over from there.”
she’s a lot friendlier now
l: “i’m with a friend but… we’ll dance later, okay?”
ok
we get lost at the party
she knows her people, i know mine
i try to keep my eye on her during the slide show for karin’s “event”
pretty boring
like watching your parents’ trip to europe there at studio 54
finally… some music
i see her at the bar
make my way over; order a couple of drinks
“so… how ‘bout that dance?”
l: “i can’t now. i’m with someone. but — later.”
she gets up to leave with her friend, a new york actor type with toothy grin
“don’t leave without that dance, ok?”
l: “okay.”
i have a few more and pretty soon it’s late
most everyone’s gone home and i should have too, but i’m still waiting for… my dance
my girl’s nowhere to be found
so i start canvassing the place – upstairs and down, the balcony, the deco men’s and women’s rooms
i ask karin, the hostess
“have you seen your costumer, the red head with the candy striped pants?”
k: “you mean l…?”
“uh, yeah”
k: “she’s dancing behind the scrim.”
sure enough, there she is: l…..
dancing… by herself
she’s covering the entire dance floor… about fifty feet wide.
moving with her whole body
as if the music carries her
she runs, slides, plays across the floor
her legs kick out and hiccup back in on the upbeat
she eats up the music and the floor like a… tapeworm
her red-orange hair is wet on her face and she’s… laughing
i’ve been watching for about five minutes, standing there alone at the edge of the scrim
until… she finally notices me
and smiles
she’s alone on the dance floor
two thousand square feet of studio 54 with no one else around
i start from right where i am
and step towards her, feeling like a star flamenco dancer
from the other side of the dance floor she imitates me
she is suddenly wearing a long, spanish, dress
our eyes lock and we circle the edge of the entire space
hands on our hips, we criss cross a lace of steps together in a wide circle along the periphery of the room
we lunge forward, in mock thrusts
then return to our circular, grapevine pattern
like two panthers in a scripted mating ritual
we start to add quick jump turns, still on the periphery of our circle
we’re like two magnets, drawn …and repelled to each other, simultaneously
suddenly, violently
she runs at me through the diameter of the circle
a beat behind her, i do the same
at the exact center, we miss each other by a hair’s breath, do a half turn each, and are pulled out to the edge again
now we reverse directions along the perimeter of the circle
then again, and…. again
as soon as either of us change and move towards the other, the other counters and keeps the 180-degree symmetry
we are like 2 heavenly bodies, obeying the physical laws
aware of the decisions being made but, not making them ourselves
this is the relationships of… dancers
we are instruments of the dance
not creating it
but being created by it
fatefully, we are permitted to approach one another
cautiously…. jealously
our heads circle one another in hyp-notic attraction
it’s all in the eyes, all in the bodies
our circular approach has condensed itself into the center of the floor
two electrons orbiting around the nucleus of the same atom
our eyes, no longer locked
they peruse each other’s torso, hips, abdomen
finally, we touch
embrace in the formality of partnership
male leader, female follower
agreement
we learn each other’s rhythm, each others’ desires
my right arm is buried deep around her waist
she understands where i want to take her by feeling its grasp
my left hand is in her right
i don’t know the first thing about this red, candy-striped lana
but i know everything i need to
we speak the language of rhythm, of movement
our bodies are one
dance is the catalyst between us
we are ignited by it, set freeeee by it
we are only its ingredients… what happens to us when mixed, we don’t know, take no responsibility for
we are voyeurs of our own chemistry, the magic & alchemy created between us
we push… into one another
as if we can push through the physical body of each other
as if… we can not get close enough
as if… we can not give each other… enough… resistance
we wrestle apart
but i won’t let her go
she wants to be free and to be part of me simultaneously
i leave her in a flash
show her my virtuosity, my footwork
my pleasure in dancing for her
she is angered
pleased
she runs at me — and spins away
we make new patterns on the floor
our imaginations are… dancing
we mirror each other’s style, each other’s footwork
there is an ecstasy in the give and take
not knowing how far we can go
our bodies have never been so ignited
we’ll burn together ’til there’s nothing left
we are breathless but not tired
all is motion, alive
as time stands still
and watches
—————–
her long-toothed actor friend reappears
she kisses me and runs off
l: “call me…..”
and she vanishes into thin air
————
there is no one left at studio 54
except karin and the crew
i say goodnight and walk out into the cool air
i am soaking wet with sweat
but invigorated and alive
i walk over to eighth avenue and hail a cab
sorry, charley, no concrete tube with itinerant flesh tonight
tomorrow night i’ll get back on the anonymous subway
but tonight — i’m going home in style
i just met a girl with flaming red hair and candy-striped pants
and we —
Danced
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