dancing in the aisle at a concert
a wave of limbs and gyrations
so tuned to the frequencies
he seems on some higher plane of being.
I want to be that guy.
I’ve been him.
Now I’m sitting on a stool
tapping a foot to the jukebox.
I dare not show more
with so much at stake
and sip mild ale on a Sunday.
But I still know how it feels
when the music’s just right
and the elements connect to vectors
that throb.
There’s a band playing later.
I like to think
that I’ll step onto the floor.
