The Man Who Taught Me How Not To Dance

in poetry •  7 years ago 

He was thirty five and full-on in jive.
White pants, white shirt in a kung fu styling.
He claimed the floor,
Then he claimed it some more,
As I sat and idly eyed him.
He had rhythm for sure,
Maybe needed some more.
But something wasn’t cohering,
And as he danced and swirled
And eyed the girls.
I saw uncool horizons nearing.
Exactly what was amiss?
Was he taking this piss?
Was my judgement amiss?
A boo and a..
Then…
The penny dropped,
As he energy bopped,
As he swirled, faux delirious:
At thirty five,
And dancing,
Enjoy the prancing,
But never Take it serious.

poetry poems dancing
7 years ago by

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