4/12 post

In an empty room full of people, I am every dance that ever was and every dancer.
I am children swirling, whirling, twirling throughout time…
I am lovers’ hands that alone can touch that smooth electricity of first skin
an enduring tingle lasting long
from country gingham dresses to wedding white to my old hands clasping still at his and his at hers…
through their crepe paper skin sparks still fly from anticipation…
from knowing how to read the other’s skin
that speaks words too large to say…too small to say enough.

In that room I see only his shoulders.
I am his shoulders, brown and freckled under that time shifting shirt that life-long lovers wear.
The shoulders of all, his shoulders…strong with sweat from digging and living and making love.
I am every fiber of every muscle…am every freckle there…am his strength and weakness.

Miles and years away and in each one of his bones I reside.
I float in the marrow of everyone's every smile.
I am each perfect missing chipped tooth that has been unveiled
by the curtain of two smooth cracked wind burned lips.
I am the lips too.
I am the hearty laughter that comes from old all-knowing women friends.
I am the sneaky smile of a candy stealing child.
I live in the throat of the old men who play checkers and guffaw at their own wit.

I am the hands that have moved time and changed this floor, the dance, the smiles, laughs, these dancing lovers.
On this newer soon old dance floor waiting never was or will be.
My every cell is stuck to every other in a sweaty glue of anonymity.
No one knows my name or eyes or the words my hands can say…but
we and I and they and you are all and nothing holding hands and legs and...
across time in love in our own way in our only way in this whatever it is.
Alwaysneveralonetogether.
Our arms are long and stretch across time and across this floor. We are all, you and me,
and nothing.