I was looking through some pictures of family trips we've taken and was reminded of a vivid experience we had in Greece a few years ago. This was one of those moments that will be burned in my memory forever. David and I were having dinner with the kids on the island of Corfu, at an outdoor restaurant called the Venetian Well. It's named for a lovely 17th century well that was built when Corfu was under Venetian rule. As we sat outside eating our dinner, this unassuming couple got up and danced the most beautiful tango. It's hard to describe, in that this dance was, as the ratings go these days, barely PG, yet at the same time it was the most truly erotic thing I've ever seen. The boys were, as the Brits might say, gobsmacked. In this poem, I've tried to describe what we saw:
One August evening,
in a plaza where people dined and drank
by a Venetian well,
the music changed.
A young man and woman,
both wearing jeans and t-shirts,
stood, embraced, and danced the tango.
they moved as one, stepping and
quickly then slowly
then quickly again.
As the couple danced,
diners put down their forks and wine glasses,
and fell silent.
The song ended, and the plaza was quiet
but for a soft textured shhhhh as the woman
dragged her foot, clad in a Converse sneaker,
up her partner’s leg in a final caress.
The dancers stepped apart
and sat back down at their table.
As if coming out of a trance, the people in the plaza
looked around them,
and then down at their plates,
and began to talk and eat again.