Blessed With the Ghost…

Our chests connected and I gently draped my left arm over his neck and shoulders. My eyes slowly closed and the music soon infiltrated our embrace…we began to move as one. Almost at once, I was no longer on a dance floor in Denver; I was in Buenos Aires, sitting outside at a cafe near Plaza de Mayo, watching passersby, sipping Gancia (ahem, with soda and lemon, right Miss Tango?). That visual passed seamlessly into another one - now we were in a milonga in Maipu 444. My eyes opened slightly and I could see the outline of his shoulder and neck. I could smell a touch of cigarette smoke on his shirt, as well as his aftershave. I felt intimately protected. I felt as though the dance was dedicated to me. I knew I was dancing with a milonguero - he had the soul of a milonguero. As the tanda progressed, my body was tingling from our connection and the sensation of….que se yo. The air around us buzzed with electricity from an earlier thunderstorm. I felt as though a spirit was passing through us while we danced. I knew in my heart that he sensed the same things. I wanted to weep. The tanda ended, and he gave me a gentle squeeze. I opened my eyes, expecting to be somewhere else…somewhere in Buenos Aires. Instead I was in Colorado. We looked at each other, our eyes glazed over with post-tango euphoria, and smiled. Our dance had been blessed with the Ghost.