Bahía Blanca (Argentina 1989)

You dance to keep you from your thirst 
Waving hair and a scent that transpires
A horizon up for grabs
A shack that topples over in your head
Gasping for breath I repeat the names
of the port cities like prayers
and watch with you over your shoulder,
the little orchestra that plays, your eyes..
My daddy is dancing a tango

It was in Bahía at a café 
- you don't dance a tango in Vienna-
The bandoneon, the sun, you became like a wax figure,
with the caption blurred, gone

Misfortune in your hand, the glass
that you raised, your eye that saw the powder
breaking, cigarette smoke and lipstick
A veil of memory shaking the music:
My daddy is dancing a tango