Ballroom Dancing

I follow you

like a paparazzi

and every now and again

try to capture your image

in words

But you resist

like an aboriginal, afraid

that I’ll seize

your soul

and damn it to

being knowable

You surprise me still

after 30 years

even though I know

exactly

how I could

make you happy

But really,

you would not

want to take

ballroom dancing lessons

with me

I would be miserable

(at least until I tried it

and passion

took over

only,

one day

soon after,

to dissipate

and we’d we left with

more uncataloged photographs

of a phase

in our lives)

12/19/07, 5 a.m.

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