"A blog is to a writer what a canvas is to an artist." ~ Colleen Redman

DANCE is in my DNA

ffddance2.jpgMy friend Luke says I dance like a pollinating bee going for nectar. I dance like I write poetry, freestyle. Sometimes I dance outside the box. With my eyes closed, I may step on your feet. I need room to spin.
I’d much rather dance at a wedding reception than catch the bouquet or eat cake. I’m always hoping they don’t play “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog” or spend too much time on The Twist. I dance to the Marcarena but I don’t know the steps. I gave up steps and haven’t used them since dancing at The Surf Ballroom in Hull, Massachusetts, back in the day when slow dancing was a safe way to get close to boys and fast dances had names like The Bump, The Boogaloo, The New Yorker, and The Philly.
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I think of dance as my sport. Before going out dancing at night, I make sure to rest during the day. I bring water and a high protein snack and get ready for a dancing marathon because once I get up on the dance floor I don’t sit down until the band takes a break. I don’t have to have a partner. I don’t want to talk or socialize. I land on a spot on the dance floor and then raise enough energy that I begin to orbit. Endorphins are released. It’s hard not to smile. I like to translate music into movement like I translate the world into words.
Post notes: The above was written from a Sunday Scribblings prompt. The photos are of me, Mara, and Joe dancing on the Poet’s Soapbox at Floyd Fest. The action video that will turn you on your head is HERE. My Dance Free Poem is HERE.

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