The Anesthesiologist's Boutonniere
by Pete Levine
We got up from the table and moved to the dance floor
Feeling like the bee's knees
Except that you tripped on the last step
And I didn’t stop to help you up and kept walking
And when you caught up with me
And told me that all the musicians were looking at us
Especially the harmonica player looking right at me
You could have been out cold for all I cared
And I looked straight ahead with my nose raised as though
I had just sniffed something that you never would
And I was wearing the anesthesiologist’s boutonniere
Feeling like the bee's knees
Except that you tripped on the last step
And I didn’t stop to help you up and kept walking
And when you caught up with me
And told me that all the musicians were looking at us
Especially the harmonica player looking right at me
You could have been out cold for all I cared
And I looked straight ahead with my nose raised as though
I had just sniffed something that you never would
And I was wearing the anesthesiologist’s boutonniere
Pete Levine's writing has appeared in StoryQuarterly, Meniscus, Jewish Fiction, and elsewhere. His documentary film The Pleasants Effect premiered at IndieLisboa. He is happy to have been born in NYC early enough to have experienced the sixties. He lives in Haarlem, Netherlands. Visit him at https://pleasantseffect.net/.