Sunday, March 16, 2008

pa' fumar!

mainly invisible
against the wall. don't see me.
making notes on music

being pushed about. take
more space! don't be pushed about!
damn! rude folks! see me!

missed the salsa. but
the samba was okay. drums
were played. people swayed.

the drums didn't pierce
the shell of lonliness, though.
she journaled a bit.

finally something
shifted. notebook away, her
feet began to move now.

people smoked pot, which
she detests, but tolerates.
she found her space. danced.

shy eye contact. turn
away. dance. weave the spell for
yourself. music heals.

piercing eyes. dancing.
the hand is extended. an
invitation. yes?

pulled onto the floor
he moves her, turns her. she smiles.
invitation. yes.

she lets herself dance.
he's playful, gentle, and bold.
she sets boundaries.

he's gentlemanly.
they chase each other about.
dance close. turn and lean.

he compliments her,
"are you from brazil? you dance
like a brazilian."

she blushes. no. born here.
family? caribbean.
but she loves to dance.

if only life was
dancing always to music
always confident...

if only life was
being invited to dance
always invited

if only life was
feeling as beautiful as
when on the dance floor

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