the white buffalo, march 3rd

thewhitebuffalomarch3

He is bathed in darkness and purple light, a smile that is honest. If I promise I am not hitting on you, will you dance with me? he asks, and I look at him. You promise, I say, and it isn’t a question, and he does. I hold out my hand.

*

The band is playing one of my favorite songs; one that makes my heart expand in a way that hurts. It ain’t about your bitching or your devil’s tongue, the White Buffalo sings. I just wish that I was still the one. 

*

I am breathless from spinning, his hand sure around mine, careful. We twirl and un-twirl and my scarf falls on the floor, a half-forgotten casualty.  Can you believe that we are here, he says, and that nobody is dancing? 

*

He speaks low, whispers the names of the dance moves. He shows me what to do with my arms, says Now spin twice. I am a terrible dancer, and a self-conscious one at that, but I don’t mind it, for once, and when I stumble and trip over my feet or step on his I laugh.

*

There is something, about the weight of a kind strangers’ hand on my hip, our bodies expanding and retreating like tide. About the quiet confidence with which he carries himself. There is something about being held, and guided; about surrendering to someone else’s step.

There is something about the grace of these moments, about these chance encounters with the kindness of strangers. About seeing one another, for the space of a song. It is the kind of magic I am grateful for.

*

I got you / In my veins, in my blood / I got you / Straight to my heart like a flood / Like there ain’t no other love

I Got You, The White Buffalo ft. Audra Mae

 

 

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