The Dancers: Goddess Power
The Dancers: Goddess Power The night February 3 rd of 2008 was cold, blowy and snowing. Just like it had been since the first week of November; with yet three more months of winter to come. That long hard season made sense. It was fish-fry night up on Fanny Hill. I’d turned fifty in that kitchen just a couple weeks previous. For all the bitter of the winter, Fanny Hill was not a bad place at all to have landed. That too was part of things. But it was a Friday night in February and I was at loose ends and feeling restless. I watched the snow come down, appearing wildly out of the bare oaks, whipped through the big lights of the parking lot, and got a little stoned before heading out across the valley back to Kari’s house. Rolling down empty Barstow, snow-below-zero and colder than fuck, I saw dancing girls in a café window, just the briefest of glances through body-fogged window. I said to myself, “Self, those were dancing girls.” And indee
