Swinger

I wrote this poem almost two years ago, and I was hoping to get a new poem written tonight, but I thought this one was fitting to post as I went swing dancing last weekend for the first time in about 9 months. (And I am once again addictively hooked.)

Swinger

One, two, triple step,
rockstep, spin, turn
he-goes she-goes beltloop
Tomahawk triplestep
and "pop!"

"Go look sexy," hips
swivel, do things naturally
trained to make him come
closer, sugar push close, but
then swing out again.

It's all a game, one two
rockstep, one two triplestep
triplestep. Push off both
turn, get close, apart, closer
catches my back but doesn't
let go, closed position, ok I know
how to do this, this sensual imitation
of how every man should know how to
love to a woman. And maybe in
a way it is, this game of dominance
and submission of holding and letting go,
control, tension, posture, "Shoulders back, pulled
down, chest out, butt out, back straight, feet apart,
arms bent, tension! Basketball stance, ready? Jump!"

And then we're ready,
he's off taking me with him,
me doing my best to keep up,
To concentrate on what I'm supposed to do,
without thinking too much about that dream,
where we were doing that dance,
without the music. Where he was
holding my hand and putting his
arm around me and pulling me
closer, and telling me that he
wanted me to stay with him, that
he needed me close, and these
feelings suddenly coming up from me
toward him, and then waking up
and them not going away along
with the false reality of those
unrealistic, mystifying, cheating, unproductive, purposeless
visions of night, but I can't forget
him, not being able to wait the time until
I'm in his arms again, in the real dance.

One, two, triple step,
rockstep, spin, turn
he-goes she-goes beltloop
Tomahawk triplestep
and "pop!"

Feet pounding, sliding, rotating
around each other, hands touching,
only letting go to bring me closer.
His eyes, his arms, his hand on my
back, my arm on his shoulder, and
then he dips me, my body across his,
my arms around his neck, my face, nose,
eyes, lips inches from his own.
One two three four - Lifts me up
and spins me out, away, the dance over,
our fantasies stalled again,
with no promises of ever becoming true.