# 2/30 Interrial dance floor

Last night,
was the call I had been waiting for
The call I would answer
without looking at your collar or callers I.D

The beckoning of your hips sang
just the way jimi’s guitar did when strummed
Tuned channel, you were live
and abstract
and gorgeous as tainted sunsets rocketing across a Nigerian sky
right before the moon in lust
takes off her night studded small clothes
pealing her skin back,
cynical beauty so ugly

We can see her stars,
the moon,
you remind me of her
the moon
She nicknames her scars “stars”
to hide her imperfection
but imperfections,
are what makes me undeserving
and you
Beautiful

You smile joy
Hands weaving tighter coils around my spine
as we color the dance floor “us”
with help from wande coal
and d’banj, sunny ade and kuti
A pioneer in a room full of strangers
You are awkward in your dance stance
But unbalanced grace has never looked so luscious

Tell me
What becomes of shyness
when you let loose
on a galleries dance floor on front street Memphis?
Does it drown sinking?
A fetid black hole
tied down by the very ball and chain of its construction
Does the sinking becoming a womb delivering your freedom?

Dance with me to the music of my birth
Hold me closer, alcoholism has seized my legs
So when I stumble 
Searching for a bathroom, go with me
When I sit on an old armchair begging to caress my body
sit with me
But on my lap,
I am a jealous lover and won’t allow the armchair to share you

Tell me you love me
Share a kiss with me
Then go
Go back to the dancehall of your freedom
And let your scar/stars blind
Be free to grove, love
Fly free love twig stuck in lips of a dove
As you dance the dance
of songs
you know nothing off