Billie & Dennis

Billie was my downhill neighbor. Got me
into Ebsen's School of Dancing, owned by
by Buddy's two old sisters. Billie knew
them from vaudeville where they song-and-danced.

The way she tells it, they were pretty good.
She tells me that Buddy played the Tin Man
until he developed an allergy
to his shiny tin skin. But when I ask

about Dorothy, she looks down and says,
"She was a good kid." Billie likes to share
her Benson & Hedges Gold “'cause smoking
ain't killed me yet," and Billie is up there.

Her house is filled with props that look like crap
needing constant dusting. And while it's hard
to keep a canyon house dirt-free, she does.
Because she loves all those silly top hats

and canes and pictures, the slim beaded dress
draped over an old satin screen. Billie’s
all there (though Dennis doesn’t think so). Loves
her reminders of lime lights and heat and

dancing under Dennis's glare from stage
left as he's dropping curtains, replacing
the city with the countryside. She takes
another drag, "I know he watches you."