Cue the shimmering footage of girls
in white stockings strolling for orange sodas.
Then cue them to shred the sepia vestiges
of skirts once swinging like chandeliers.

We’ve all worn boots and kicked them off
to tunes in every genre and gin joint.
Jazzed up or country swung, let’s croon a new
jukebox: euphony not eulogy, loud

but not lewd. Let’s unscrew the stage lights,
sing adieu to blank cartridges, beer coasters,
tequila-gold walls riddled with peepholes.

We’ve recalled the chorus line, unbolted
the poles. We know how to let loose on our own
terms, tango or two-step, and in our own time.