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Every Day is Hallowe'en
She swirled about the dance floor in lazy little circles, in the little black dress she'd stolen from Miss Wonderly. Her arms spun in that approved graceful goth manner; she was a mildly excited particle in constant motion.
He was some thirty years behind her, but still on the same floor. Spinning lights played across his long tailed coat as he swooped from here to there, his artfully draped forelock falling darkly across one eye, waiting patiently for Oscar Wilde to write a play about it. One hand ever tucked firmly to the small of his back, he described arcs on unseen circles, pausing at the end of each before discovering a new tangent to fall into. Curl and halt, curl and halt.
Their paths crossed and re-crossed as they moved around each other, the space tight and crowded but infinitely vast, orbital patterns overlaid by the DJ on the floor. And either might never have known the other existed, except for the single moment when he, free hand extended, catches hers and lifts it to his lips. A touch, and they again separate to spin back into the deepness between them.
He was some thirty years behind her, but still on the same floor. Spinning lights played across his long tailed coat as he swooped from here to there, his artfully draped forelock falling darkly across one eye, waiting patiently for Oscar Wilde to write a play about it. One hand ever tucked firmly to the small of his back, he described arcs on unseen circles, pausing at the end of each before discovering a new tangent to fall into. Curl and halt, curl and halt.
Their paths crossed and re-crossed as they moved around each other, the space tight and crowded but infinitely vast, orbital patterns overlaid by the DJ on the floor. And either might never have known the other existed, except for the single moment when he, free hand extended, catches hers and lifts it to his lips. A touch, and they again separate to spin back into the deepness between them.
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(Anonymous) 2001-10-28 06:15 pm (UTC)(link)Where it belongs...