Learning How To Samba Poem by Sonny Rainshine

In Rio de Janeiro one night you taught me to samba
while you mixed blue moons at midnight
and tequilas sunrises
at 6 AM.

You never missed
a beat.

The shadows of hibiscus
and the musky emblems of the sun,
marigolds and fiery zinnias,
danced with us
on the sepia flagstones,
all terra cotta
and terrible
in their earthiness.

Where did Rio go?
Where did that sultry
lilt in your voice,
that breath of life
mingled with marigolds
zinnias and ripe limes,
go?

I imagined
that night
that there would be other nights,
maybe not on a moonlit
Brazilian courtyard,
but in a room
after the children are put to bed,
a gentle fire singing at the hearth,
when you teach me all over
how to samba.