Saturday, February 20, 2010

Learning To Dance

Remember when you taught me how to dance?
We put the 45 on the record player,
a red and white thing I got for my birthday,

the little yellow disk was carefully set
and Elvis sang a rock and roll song
about his ex girlfriend's little sister.

You were so light on your feet
and I could barely lift mine
but you made it seem fun

so we danced until our clothes were drenched,
our feet ached and I finally found the rhythm.
I could feel the music and kept up with you
adding a few steps of my own.

At some point you were called to Vietnam,
a random drawing in a lottery.
Elvis gave way to the Rolling Stones
and life became more complicated.

Somewhere along the way we stopped dancing
the burden of the world weighed
heavy on our shoulders and we walked
away from each other,

never returning to that place long ago,
out in the garage of our parent’s home,
where you taught me how to dance.

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