about to dance in santa fe


eons ago, before my teenage body morphed,

before i became self-conscious, 

i loved to dance—all those middle-school dances, 

always dancing with the wrong ones,


too shy to ask the right ones. still, i loved it. 

high school—figuring it out. college—

too many woman swaying, white arms raised, 

to the rhythm, a dance-drought for me,


until colin. colin knew all the places, 

not the clubs, but the wineries and bars 

that dot wine-country where you might find 

a string quartet or line-dancing—


it's where i met marketa, no quicker way 

to get to know someone than by dancing.




bars are opening, the music live, 

a willingness to be among a crowd again.


a friend told me that you can never step 

in the same river twice. if that's true, 

will we have felt the shift, are we who we were

after a year suspended, after a life-hiatus?


wondering amounts to nothing. it's time to dance—

dance being what it is—a state of mind.






Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2021-05-26 at 01:02

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
I enjoyed reading this.

The penultimate stanza poses a question that I think is truly difficult to answer of ourselves, but at the same time is universal. We are all in constant change, from moment to moment. We are always the product of what went before.

I love especially your last stanza.