Tango Hula

Glenlivet wears a pained expression. He has made the mistake of letting go of my right hand.

I don’t know what he’s doing with his hand. I’m doing hula with mine.

Last summer, David Hodgson’s class. He encourages us to mess around with reality. With tango, I mean.

I like to mess around. I like to experiment with mash-ups.

Currently I am mashing up tango and hula.

Why not? You see a woman raise her left arm, waft it gently like a sea plant, slink-slide it into place across her partner’s shoulders. Why not the other hand, too?

I try a few wafting moves, the full-arm ocean waves of auwana. Glenlivet soldiers on.

What do you think? I ask.

Ever the gentleman lead, he says nothing but recaptures my hand, holds it close—traps it, you might say--in his.
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