More historical events ...!

Glass on a Brick Floor

Over forty and game
for anything, single
parent needing money, 
I hired myself
to parties

belly dancing

(oh, don't worry, I'd
had lessons and made
my debut in pink
chiffon in front of
eighty people for a
couple celebrating
twenty-five years
married)

The gent was turning
fifty and must have
been short-sighted
clutching my arm
deftly sitting me
on his strong thighs.

I pursued the music
laughing the obvious
off lightly, dancing
so fast there was no
chance for a repeat
performance by him.

Without respite I
completed my act
and fled. Carrying
my slipper-shoes.
Dripping blood from
cut feet on grass.

(well, I hadn't been
taught the hazards
of barefoot dancing
on brick floors in
ethnic clubs out
Springvale way -
should have added
the cost of bandaids
to the bill)