Footloose
Mind dancing,
missing steps, not much leaping.
Even so, good enough.
Long time backwards
'Brown Sugar' hip jerking stuff,
white bellbottoms flaring like Day lilies.
We were a floor for others to adore,
microcosms in a single frame universe,
eyes whirring, pinned to the air
with a none-stick-glue.
It was not true dancing,
you have to enter your mind
like a matador
to really step out of yourself
and into the boot clogging
beat of a singular stillness.
Still, even now
at the doorstep of all my unknowing,
I can dance across a mindscape
with a heel-clicking, tightly laced ego.
Good enough, and
better than just
rolling around
like a stone.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
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