the mind of mine that dances
warms up: stretches its toes independently like fingers
that are meanwhile smoothing lackadaisically in a gull's invisible glide on either side

the mind of mine that dances
inherits african drums and south-american maracas from its demanding ballroom balconies
filled with spectating thoughts of women, wine, or the upcoming selection

the mind of mine that dances
tangos with electricity, salsas in the froth of black seas, and pirouettes like an attic ghost

at night it twirls with eyes closed like a child
or widowed grandmother recollecting matrimony