I keep asking myself what kind of gasoline is it
that keeps us dancing like that for so long
I mean you'd think a couple of hours would be enough
but no we always have to go for broke and bruised
5 hours of Salsa, seasoned with a 1/2 pint of Merengue & a dash of Hip Hop
I would say it's singles insanity but we're always in good company
bruised legs, scuffed-off toenail polish and arm slightly pulled out of socket
this is a contact sport, this dance, this hit you better be ready for in advance
truth test, you can and will fall with the wrong leading partner
floors are usually slippery and sadly every lead you won't be able to follow
the short ones, the muscled ones, the Rico Suave ones
the one's way too excited and off beat
the ones who say they will be on dancing with the stars next season
the ones who drag you on the floor when you say your feet hurt
responding I'll go slow...the non-gentleman who could care less
that you're sweating like a sponge over-saturated with suds
and can barely walk...nope, all they see is how great you were
with the previous leading partner on that very long and fast song
band singing we don't need no music all we need is rhythm
something like that...Boogaloo Assassins putting it down
with great vocals matching the instruments expression
It was fun though, entertained within the entertaining
jubilee-ing our Sister and her solar return
birthdays still blessing her being
reminding her/us there's still a purpose to fulfill
one day I'll figure out that gasoline formula
stored up specifically for these nights to remember
by Shonnese C.L. Coleman
No comments:
Post a Comment