he danced

I wish I’d gotten his name,
the gent waiting at the
Soto exit for spare change

He came to the window
but I didn’t give him cash;
he bummed a cigarette instead

I asked if he needed a light
and he came close again
to meet the flame

Then, spectacularly, he
overheard the old Motown
playing on my stereo

smiled and started dancing
wiggling his hips to the
melody and I grinned

complimented him on his
moves and he said, “Yep!
Sixty-two years old

and my ladyfriend says
I still got it and better
not give it to anyone else.”

We laughed together, I
danced in my seat with him
’til the light turned green

and I went on my way,
unable to stop smiling
and loving Los Angeles

for these moments
it sometimes deigns
to bestow.

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