every Friday evening

the tiled floor

the dancing feet

the shy glances

and eyes that meet

an invitation

to the dance

a brief connection

it cannot last

if he is brave

and takes a chance

do not forget

the necessary detail

of romance

a starched white collar

a kohl lined eye

red pointed shoes

a lover's lie

in the dim glow

of the frosted, fluted lamp

he executes

a lover's dance

a flawless enrosque

tight as leather

stretched over a lathe

an ocho, a figure eight

Pugliese knows the time

It is early!

No, it is late!

the wistful poet

the weary milonguero

one more dance

one more boleo

La milonga

for you I live

a happy tango

my corazon, my heart

I give!