The Dance
by Tess Crescini-Hovland
I like to samba, cha-cha-cha
glue my ears to boom box blaring
metallic salsa, righteous rock, reggae rap
swaying, balancing children on my lap.
I let arbitrary horniness get in the way
grind my fleshy hips, lose control,
do the nasty, nasty to the blues beat
Oriental delight all through the night.
My lover says "I love you, but I'm not in love with you."
I danced the tasty freeze shuffle with him before,
so I smoke some ganja, smile like a buddha, and say,
"Spank me with a rose, baby. Spank me with a rose."
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