“I love to watch good dancers talk.”- The Sleepy Jackson

I have so many poems about dancing and with dancing imagery. I truly believe I must have been a dancer in a past life. I love to dance. I love watching people dance. This poem is really a short, sweet simple poem about friendship, which I have many where dancing is something we love to do together.


We have boogied in flavors. Dances 

Sometimes sound like gelato flavors

Merengue, Samba, Twist.. We’ve done them all

And the neighbors have been pretty hospitable 

To the carnival of dances

That port themselves in our apartment in the afternoon.

They don’t even flinch anymore when they walk by,

The music’s blaring, and rhythm’s a go-gp,

And we’re doing things that look like we’re misbehaving

With the blinds open in mid-daylight. We are real 

About the feet. We don’t compromise anything

In our rumbas- scanning and scheming,

Barbie and Ken feeling dirty and greasy,

Speaking easy and sleazy. We love 

The feeling of pogo stick jumping, punk skanking,

A cesspool of dreams we’ve come to fit into

Jammin’ together in our get the fuck out of reality jeans.

No more wasting time on our narcissism,

When the music’s loud 

Beating the shit out of these alabaster walls,

Our eyes just off some psychological slave ship-

Wild and crazy. We just keep dancing

Just like people who love themselves do.

Stray bullets fly and American flags go half mast.

Women come out of beauty parlors uglier then they went in.

You and I we’re still doing what we do.

Through our deep, dark stories into the deep, dark night

Into our bright glory as the sun goes down 

And finds its way back to light. Our thoughts

Don’t move in straight lines, neither do you & I.

Regardless of what language or banter we choose,

Eventually we’ll find a way to make it move. We dance

In our seats. We bebop into bars

And back out into the streets. Our friendship

Is simply  an episode of American Bandstand on repeat.

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