Spirits at La Viruta

Silver hair,
Golden age tanda.
I know after the first song,
he is dancing
with a ghost in his arms.
I
remind him
of someone
else.

He invites me to
his table,
an elegant bucket
of champagne,
two glasses on the linen.

But this ghost of his,
she's jealous.
Her icy breath on my neck
turns the fine wine
to ash.

I finish it too quickly,
anxious to escape.
Unquestioning,
he gallantly escorts me
back to the safety
of my own table.

Does he come to
exorcise her
or hold séance?