dancing on the bar

she bought the wedding dress with silk covered buttons all the way down the back, exactly like i’ve always wanted and never had, which started me thinking about other things in life i’ve always wanted and never had. because life is long there’s time yet for me to have at least some of the things i’ve always wanted if i still want them, which bubbled up the next list of things i once had and no longer have and will never have again, a sadder list. i shook out the sadness by singing loudly while driving my sportscar as fast as it was designed to be driven around sharp curves, taking me the long way to his house, stopping to buy expensive beer that we didn’t drink. i washed his dishes and watched him cook and listened to stories about his day. i laid down but couldn’t rest. the restlessness of wanting things i don’t have, have never had, will never have again kept me skipping past heartbeats between breaths and the image of my younger self dancing on the bar appeared when i closed my eyes. i’ll never again dance on the bar which is easy to accept since i don’t want to drunkenly dance, grind, or strut on a bar anymore, but i wish i had known the last time would be the last. i wish i’d known that i’d grow into someone who doesn’t want to dance on bars, because when i was her, i wouldn’t have believed you. when i was her, i believed i’d always be young enough, wild enough, beautiful enough that bartenders would endlessly boost me onto the bar and invite me to let myself be wilder and more beautiful for as long as i wanted to dance or until a tall strong man would lift me down and buy me a drink and try to do whatever it is that men in bars do except i never wanted that, i was immune to them. i drank the drink and talked to them until the last sip, which means i mocked them, but i did it slyly and sweetly so that most of them didn’t notice and the ones who did respected me for it, and then i’d get back on the bar and dance, because dancing on the bar held me above the crowd, everyone else disappeared from my view, all i could see were flashing lights on the ceiling.


About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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