Graduation Dance

The gym was dim. Red and white balloons glittered in the dusk while flashing lights writhed on the dark floor like enchanted water-snakes gliding through scented fog. This was a celebration dance! Eighth grade done at last, they stepped, hesitant, into the roiling teen-age sea,their synchronous, bobbing heads attuned to the be-bop rhythms of the city (not their city), and the lusty calls of the hood (not their hood). Smooth gym walls echoed the dj's mechanical angst endless, relentless beats, the racing heart of the machine, artificial sighs, nano-seconds long and gigabytes wide. The boys, spinning on heads and leaping from hands and flailing legs, showed an athleticism never seen in PE, while the girls huddled in their own dark corner and planned their move; their fashion walk, legs strutting ahead of swaying hips, heels clicking the hard, dark floor, as they stalked right up to the foul line where boys were spinning and leaping through throbbing lights to the tribal, primal beat. So the girls turned, hips flung in defiance, and sashayed back to the wall, staring hard at the gaping boys over their swaying shoulders. (28 May 2009)