Rush

Danced through mazes of people to

get here – to you. A spot on the floor forgotten

by geography and curious explorers.



Some speech spilled out of our mouths

only to fall to the floor and receive

the soles of those left over for the next song.



Pleasantries really, that first dance – an exchange

of the mutual – an awkward mosaic composed in

the colors of initial blush.



How the floor pulsated through the toes up

and up

out the top of the head – a river of signals

synthesized rushing to a grand receiver in space.



And I embraced the apparent deterioration of

my muscles – now thin invisible supports for

my limbs like translucent spaghetti straps to a

twentysomething’s dress.



We stood as if only a divine cue

could crash down and smother us

in understanding – something solid to hold onto.

And the touch –

was like spatterings of sizzling fat flung up

and down the spine.



Music gave permission to continue

from the freeze frame of first fear.

So, self-control held hands with shy

and slid down my leg leaving pools

to pummel with rhythm.



A mass of dancers so close

created a swarm sound that could deafen

the most leaden ear. Music ceased to matter –

lulled backward in panting patterns lost on

me and you – two of the confused.



An elixir of musk – sweat – shampoo hovering

between nausea and euphoria – each one a

personal con artist to my nerve cells.



I’m falling –

and to stop moving would hurt too much.