The Shimmering

          It looked like a whole bunch of women dancing wildly on the stage. The crowd was huge, the music deafening. The BeeGees were pounding out "Stayin' Alive." I could feel the music vibrate my body.
          And then, as I approached the up escalator, through all the bobbing heads, I thought I saw her on the stage. She was pointing at me and screaming out something.
          I ran up the escalator stairs, hoping to get a better look. She'd disappeared. I leaned on the railing outside of Kincaid's scanning the dancers. And then I saw, of course, that it was a woman who looked very much like her. I knew it was impossible anyway. A mirage.
          A woman came out of Kincaid's and started waving to someone below. The noise level was so high she had to shout into her phone. "You can't see me? Look up! Up!" Her waving became more animated, intensified. "I know you can't see me! But I'm right here!"

That's right, I thought,
I couldn't.
But you're always right here
in leotards,
leg warmers,
and in the news
in July,
a long time ago.
I didn't cry then
Because I
never cry.