Hey, come on, don’t be shy now!
I know you can dance, and I know you have held a woman before. You aren’t shy when you joke with me, or others. You can hold your own, so now you can hold me.
That’s right, hand on my hips, the other holding mine — you know how this works.
Swing me around a little, smile at me, take my breath away in a harmless manner. There’s nothing wrong with any of this, don’t worry. Just shove me around, whirl me, woo me.
Don’t give me that look like you are questioning me, I don’t need that right now. Yes, I know my husband’s over there, and I know he’s staring. He’s good at that, the silent glares and quiet stares. But he doesn’t know what else to do, with anything.
He doesn’t know that he has a divorce coming up, in about a year or two. He doesn’t know that he’ll divorce me in the end, that I won’t ever do it on my own. I like his money, and I like that he can’t dance, and I like that he knows it.