when the music stopped

Near the shadow
long legs of an Argentine dancer
under breasts without a cover
lift for my inquiring touch.

Behind me in the soft twilight
the marble stairs
and Greek Doric columns
smell old and masculine.

And she formed a simple tango
with her musical movements
on the second step
while I held the note.

On the near floor a white piano
with black keys
to open her heart
if I should want to.

Two swans appeared
on the terrace
which she noticed
only moments before.

Two sides of the same coin
rolled over
my tapping foot
without making a decision.

A bowl of cherries
held in her hands
was offered to me
along with three glasses.

But nothing kept her happy
when the music stopped.