Rebecca

Why some names stick is beyond me.
She was an exception to the room.
While the crowd ran rich with long
flowing hair and exposed flesh, she
observed in silence, between smoke
filled breaths, waiting for me to make
my approach. Meanwhile, I circled,
eying her punk styled short black hair,
short skirt pulled over top of skin tight
slacks. Took some time but eventually
years of humiliation were pushed aside,
for her I was willing to dance. Hands
intertwined as her body moved with mine.
The night grew tired and finally to an end.
Wishful hopes of future encounters
appeared promising, yet now she is but a
memory.