Flamenco Dancer
She stands as the guitarists start to play
walking across the stage while staring out
at dark and smoke ignoring the ole’s
and guapa’s from the
crowd: she knows their shouts
don’t matter
and
that you don’t either friend
because flamenco is about disdain
the only proper answer to the end
of love
to
venting anger
and to pain
dancing not for you / lifting up the skirt
of her tight black dress / not to show her legs
to you (because she wouldn’t care if you
kissed them) / but just to have them free to hurt
the man (any man) who made her beg
slamming high heels on wood
like she would you
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