Dancing in the Back
The dance studio was full
of beautiful women in leotards
and matching tank tops, some
at the barre, some practicing
downward dog, all elegant,
well toned, very Boulder.
I took my place at the back
in my Target capris and slightly
dirty T-shirt not quite covering
that little pooch-that-never-goes-away.
Music, movement, the dancers moved
in unison with the teacher who was
too far away for me to see without
my glasses, which I didn’t have.
I struggled to follow every move
but fell further and further behind,
until I found myself leaping into the air,
a beautiful red dress flowing over my body,
dancing my own dance.
The dance studio was full
of beautiful women in leotards
and matching tank tops, some
at the barre, some practicing
downward dog, all elegant,
well toned, very Boulder.
I took my place at the back
in my Target capris and slightly
dirty T-shirt not quite covering
that little pooch-that-never-goes-away.
Music, movement, the dancers moved
in unison with the teacher who was
too far away for me to see without
my glasses, which I didn’t have.
I struggled to follow every move
but fell further and further behind,
until I found myself leaping into the air,
a beautiful red dress flowing over my body,
dancing my own dance.
.
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