Old soul, he called me.
Broke my name into 16 syllables.
A 16-bar blues. A 16-year-old answering to
baby girl passing baby fat off as curves.
We danced like husband and wife.
We were in love, I think. See, I was
just a little too high. Struggling to groove
to the romance of sax, the stench of sex.
Numb when the needle siphoned the
sound from a spinning vinyl. Dancing
more like daddy and daughter, feet carried by his,
letting him take the giant steps for me,
to Feel All The Love Inside. Making out
Janis Janis Janis in the background.
Sahara Sidi is a poet & essayist based in Detroit, MI. She earned a BA in English and Social, Cultural, and Critical Theory from Wesleyan University. Her work is published/forthcoming in Salt Hill Journal, Rusted Radishes, The Offing, Chestnut Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. As a Rackham Merit Fellow, she received her MFA in poetry at the University of Michigan — Helen Zell Writers Program.