She dreams of being a dancer
sliding gracefully across the floor
to the Mango Tango
or exploring her feral Foxtrot
something I can’t give her
with two right feet

My best steps have always come
after a few drinks
jokingly named by someone long ago
the Rockem Sockem Robot

I think Jean Luc Picard
of Star Trek Next Generation fame
said it best: "I don’t dance"
I tell her
though we’ve had some wonderful waltzes
to Leonard Cohen
and go go going to
The Doors’ Roadhouse Blues
on the Parquet floor boards of our dining room

Truth is I always saw myself
more as the guy playing the music
letting everyone else make fools of themselves
and though I could never seem to muster the passion
to practice every day as a good musician should
I never completely gave up on the dream
now playing better air guitar than I ever have

I barely have time to balance my cheque book
jot down a few significant lines of poetry
let alone aspire to be the next John Travolta
though my girlfriend has got me hooked on
watching the silken or volcanic moves of others
in the dance equivalent to American Idol

And it is in my nature to go the extra distance
when it’s do or don’t
so the next time you’re at a dance club
or perhaps the nearest Greek restaurant
and you spot a short guy
with Mediterranean complexion
after a few good belts of wine
making a fool of himself
bumping hips with the resident belly-dancer
rest assured
he’s not dancing

© 2008

1,100 hits as of February 2024

01/20/2008

Posted on 01/20/2008
Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti