Dancing Queens

Emily Moore

Abba. New Year’s. Skirts and ties.
Adelle and Cassie running out to dance,
their jackets kicked beneath a bench.
Adelle in tails. Cassie’s criss-crossed straps.
Tiara wearing taffeta. The Gaysha
with her fliers. Aubrey moving stacks of glasses
towards the bar. The cold still on the cheeks
of girls who stepped outside to smoke,
the butch ones giving up their stools
to femmes in dirt-scuffed heels and rocker Ts
who flirt and cross their skinny knees
and sip their seven dollar drinks and stare
out over boots and belts and newsboy caps.
Adelle’s bare hands on Cassy’s back.