have found their way
around your waist, we who
generally dance in odd
orbits around each other,
sequences which minimize
proximity, yet now you’ve
awkwardly but calmly
backed into me. Quick
(but time is gloriously
slow) my arms work up
to clasp your shoulders,
elusive dancer. Why,
you’d stay, wouldn’t you?
Let’s part for a while and
imagine spectators, each
wanting a part of us (singly
or in combination). You,
my new friend, practically
a stranger.
