At the Dance

I watch as feet step, slide, pivot, and hop—

Bodies extensions of sound, pressing close

In this surging field of glistening skin,

And lights that cut the salty, heady air.


Beneath this mass, the foundations quake:

A tremor emanating from the stage

Where musicians paint with rhythm and tone—

Their voices rising above the steady pulse.


That dynamic dais of color and song

Flings vivid eyes across the vibrant floor—

An electric jolt as they connect with mine,

A flash of teeth, toss of hair, tilting head—

A passing glance that lingers, then moves on.