Dance Lesson

We syncopate
duck and feint
as the
days seep
into years.
I remember
a dead November
standing outside your car
when our years
turned into mintues.
Our dance requested
a steady lead
but the position
never got filled.
Where can we go
when the only thing
that can be said
is "I'm sorry?"
So now we sit opposite,
each holding up their own
end
of the wallflowered
barn dance wall.
When you cut in
and asked for this dance
I scuffed my shoes
on the strawed floor
and sorely mumbled
that I needed
a lesson.
We laughed
while we stepped
all over each other
but when the bruised music
ended, we did too.
So when the day is used up
and the work is done,
I walk the road
under my flat feet
right past the garlands
of lights
and
the sweet G chord whine
of the big barn
and the dancing inside.