At least the lady I danced with
at the historic Woodsmen of the World Hall
wore a woolen poncho
big enough for the both of us
Husbands and husbands-to-be
watching in the dimness
you could barely tell
our personalities
because of the poor lighting
So now I am left with the memory
of wool and the corners of my eyes
their hard scrabble sheep
of long ago and not so long ago
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