Sunday, April 13, 2014

Spring 2014: Rough Draft Poem 6

My First Time

No clinging sweat,
Nothing getting stuck
In uncomfortable places.
No breezy chills
Or lingering heat.
Just the music
Moving our bodies.

We pulse.
We stretch.
We compress.

Hips swivel.
Hands connect.
Breaths synchronize.

There's nothing like the first time
Swing dancing in moisture-wicking panties.