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dana clancy

9/9/2015 7:38:15 AM

3/19/2014 5:18:51 AM
poem written sometime after Egypt Air crash in 1999...current relevance

3/19/2014 5:18:41 AM
poem written sometime after Egypt Air crash in 1999...current relevance

1/1/2014 5:00:49 AM


IAC Prime Member


dana clancy

9/9/2015 7:38:15 AM

Jane and Dance stood bare to the waist by the window to the street, agape at the whirling freeze drifting through the arthritic elms of Ashton Terrace. The window blushed and frosted, shivering the lovers in a frenzied night. Candlelight then bent and stiffened their barefoot shadows through the broad door to the azure flame of the space heater in the corner of the kitchen ante-room. Warmed quickly, they dropped like shot soldiers onto Dance’s bed.
Dance fished for rolling papers, spished beers for himself and Jane, and pulled a fat pinch of sticky weed out of the baggie under his pillow. He licked two papers together and spread weed into the furrow, rolling it tight and sealing it with a flirt. This he lit with the candle by the bed and sucked the nipple of the thing to the verge of facial collapse, passing it to Jane while exhaling the sweet blue fog. They each took three puffs to feel giddy and golden.
"Zeke gets this UFO shit, and I’m afraid to ask him where,” Dance whispered through held breath. “It always makes me feel like the Daughters of the American Revolution are about to round up my ass and beat me in a humane fashion until I cough up my source….” Jane giggled, “They can round you up, but the ass stays---it’s mine.”
Dance tipped his beer upside down over his open mouth, swallowing at the speed of the pour. Jane took a feminine swallow, smiling at Dance with her eyes that always looked as if she’d been crying, blue and watery in any simple light. They got up, hands clutched, to look out the frosted window once again.
“Looks like no school, all schools, all day,” said Dance, with driving Jane back to Mount Holyoke in the morning gloriously impossible. He squeezed her lovely slender hand with the pink-polished fingernails that somehow made her blonde-oh-so-blonde hair more beautiful than a fat moon. They lingered as the driven dust smothered cars and the street with the ancient pines bobbing like drunk sailors.
“I have an idea!” Jane said. “Let’s go tabloid! Let’s be as obscene as possible, starting with a major co-ed steaming bath followed by an inter-collegiate coitus match! How does that sound, Dance, you big lug?”
Dance burst with a laugh that curled into a circle and seemed it would never end.
“Now that is one bitchin’ idea,” he finally said. “I’ll get my swimsuit!”
“Now I’ll do this under one condition,” Jane said with a stern face. “You must promise not to come in three seconds….come on, I’m just kidding Baby Boy.”
“No, no…I wasn’t being sensitive…I picked up a radio signal the Big Dipper just jacked off at the thought of you and I tubbing and rubbing and lubbing in a howling prairie twister…Man, I’m so stoned I forget how to get to the bathroom…” (The Creator invented giggles for such moments.)
Dance and Jane took off what little they still had on and squeaked their way to the bath, blasted on the water hot, then stood for a moment and laughed at each other.
Dance wondered in a whisper, “Whatever shall we do while we wait?”
Jane took the short lunge at Dance and kissed his mouth, and her tongue plunged deep as heartache. Dance quietly groaned and helplessly sipped the essence of pleasure this Jewess had brought to his life. After a moment, Dance sat on the edge of the tub, turned Jane around still standing, and gave her a puppy bite on her ass---she squealed with feigned agony. He turned her back around and kissed and licked her breathless.
“You are my lover, you mad, bad boy. I think of our kisses when I’m in organic chemistry, you know, so I’ve got a B average so far for the first time in my life because of you and my horny devil mind. How could I ever explain? I’d never been in love before, you know? It’s so intense, and there’s no beginning or end to the desire. I think we should have 500 children and take over the world so everyone could be as loved and loving as I feel...what’s that girgling sound? Oh, Christ, look at the tub!”
Dance and Jane each dipped their toes in the steaming water. “Jesus H.! My toe is in flames!” Dance said loud enough for Jazz upstairs to later mention. They each got in slowly. “Ooh!” “Oh, Man!” “All Hail Christ!” “Ah, my privates!”
Dance thought about how the female anatomy never ceased to amaze him ever since Maura O’Leary pissed for him in the woods when he was four. He and Jane began to soap each other with emphasis on the more interesting areas, licked and kissed each other's faces, Jane’s pubic hair soft as an angel’s brow. They breasted the bathwater, stoned, giggling, ticklish, and flush with soon ecstacy. “Richard,” the name Jane gave to Dance’s privacy, peered stiff above the surface of the water like a periscope. Getting out of the tub, they toweled each other dream-like and shivered.
“Last one under the covers killed Christ!” joked Dance.
“Last one under the covers gave birth to Christ,” countered Jane.
They hugged hard and trembling. Dance smelled Jane’s sweet soap skin, faint beer breath, the musk at her upper thighs. Her blonde oh so blonde hair spread across the pillows full like a sea of wheat. They kissed softly and wet, entranced by the tender agony of their love. Dance pressed and toyed with her breasts, his favorite spot being the “milk duds” that swelled and stiffened. They shivered under the spell of an angry lust. Dance slid his hand slowly down Jane’s abdomen, fingered her navel lingering, then reached for his sweetest darling, “Elizabeth,” and then, just then, the windows rattled with the fierce song of the wind. He rubbed her fleece so soft and puffed, both puffing, felt his hand suddenly soak, and worked his fingers exactly as Jane had taught him in his college boy innocence. Again the windows rattled, as if from Jane’s sudden cries of pleasure and finitude. Her so lovely form contorted, then went limp as in death rattle.
Dance eased onto her and completely buried himself, back and forth easy and slow, and Jane moaned loud and giggled with pleasure and whispered such words as only lovers know and cannot be described or translated. Dance stiffened and gasped, and Jane would never know how near he fought such burning tears for this terrible beauty, this guest now rising, this guest now taking leave.

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