come dance with me

we dance up
to the line
like squabbling
children
extending dares
across one
in the dirt
invisible
but hugely
important
international borders
and
feelings
our dance is
not
organized
woman
this is no
box step
if such a thing
is indeed
organized
if anything
we dance off
up to that
point
each a turn
but
we’ve crossed it
before
both
you’ll remind
i know
the small hand
on late
the big hand on
very
emboldened by
darkness
and
possibility
snuggled in the
protective cloak
of whispers
leaping
into
terrifying freedom
briefly
before retreating
exhilaration
holding hands
with regret
overthinking
undersharing
weirdness
like youth
fades
and we wait
for reasons that
confound
(at least one
of us)
until
the music

starts

again

7 thoughts on “come dance with me

      • “Ah…the grace, the beauty, the blood flowing freely onto the ice.”
        “I thought that was supposed to be hockey?”
        “Well, yes, but Peter brings a certain flair to the practice time at the rink. I say it keeps ice dancing exciting! Goes back to the roots of the sport…”

        I’ve spent way too much time listening to Olympic announcers lately.

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