The Lovely Tall Novelist Danced

As if to annul
any suspicion
he was a saltine,

he danced
like a stick
thrown by some native

into a fiery
sunset. He went
on dancing

after the music
had stopped, which was
when the women

looked into their
drinks and saw
how beautiful

olives become
when you do not
ignore them.


The Atlantic Monthly; February 1996; The Lovely Tall Novelist Danced; Volume 279, No. 2; page 84.


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