in passing

These dancing girls
in pink, lime, and blue;
Their glimmer reminds me
how slight my experience
with the novel,
the fearless,
and the new.

Under gray pleated stockings,
they summon all that is nude.
These women who pass me
knowingly,
along
gutters,
stairwells,
and attitudes.

Dirty were the glances
that laundered my sheets,
bleached by their sincerity—
and ironed by their needs.