why cry when you can rumba

if only i’d known

dancing was a choice

i’d have shaken my shimmie

waltzing myself

out more doors than

you could count

i would have salsa-ed and fox

trotted till my toes bleed

instead i’ve held  up

wallpaper and maintained

cushions i’ve twirled on office

chairs and scooted my way

down corridors to tones

made up and stored in my

head filled with the nonsensical

tasks of daily life from plastic

bag overflow and basement

floors to mop after puppy

poop has been picked up

i wish i had been dancing

the night he left

i wish i had been dancing

single step cha cha cha

into this new life

a little swing

a lot more jive

had i known

it was an option

the radio would have blared

as i rumba-ed my own self

out of the raucous mayhem into

a new happy



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