Easter and Pasties

He was dripping doo-wop style complete with a finely placed fedora on this evening of yet another matrimonial occasion with which he could twirl me on his finger and teach me to box step. I was his brown eyed girl with dark tendrils cascading down my shoulders and together we gingerly shimmied through time until the pace quickened and I chose to trade in my petticoats for prom dresses. Years after, self-sufficiency saw me as the black sheep of the family...only not to the man who was now older and wiser, but still with eyes of grey and a heart of gold. We sat soaking in the sun of a lovely spring afternoon among all the plastic and paper carnage that Easter chocolate brings as he in his casual best says. “ So, are you still a Go Go dancer?” With a mouthful full of gumbo I hesitated to reply, and he said, “I thought so, you always had a little bit of wild in you”