from time to time

I can hear the train
in the distance through the trees,
the rumbling muted click-clacking
of its big metal wheels
along the tracks,
rumbling into the future
leaving the past behind
like all of us should I suppose
from time to time.

In Ballroom Dancing Class

It is not necessarily a bad thing
for her to feel flattered
that another man
has noticed her, watches her dancing,
pays some attention to her,
tries to dance with her whenever he can,
and not be too obvious about it,
seeing as his wife is in the class too.
That’s not bad, I guess,
a little ego gratification is human.
But what isn’t so good (for me),
what bothers me, haunts me now,
is when the occasion arises for her
to dance with him, she obviously
enjoys it more than dancing with me.
She chasse steps with him, performs
promenades, cross-overs and underarm turns
with him, finally returning to me,
after the dance is done,
all flushed and excited, bright-eyed
and out of breath.

Mike Estabrook: Over the years Mike Estabrook has published a few chapbooks and appeared in some terrific poetry magazines, but you are only as good as your next poem and like a surfer looking for that perfect wave, he is a poet prowling for that perfect poem. Right now he is looking for that perfect poem in his wife, who just happens to be the most beautiful woman he has ever known. If he finds it anywhere, he'll find it in her.

Email: Mike Estabrook

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