To say, I been in the house a lot lately is an understatement. But I remember the hot house parties and the small dance floors and it makes me want to write. This is a poem from my up and coming book. I hope you love it!
Dance Party
the old deteriorating building erupted
with pulsating mist moving in and out of enthusiastic mouths,
sandwiched in like sardines
marinading in a discolored can
the faces show up in the crowd
reflecting off of flickering lights,
their bulbs nearly burned out
from the stress of shining
a beautiful day has given way
to a lovely night,
we are in love
with the notion of music tonight
we gyrate like alley cats,
we shimmy like snakes,
we snap, crackle and pop,
we bend our back till it break
we sweat like ice cream
in mid August next to barbecuing meat,
we locking lips with heat,
we moving our antsy feet to sweltering beats
we tick effortlessly
like a clock being wound up in reverse,
completing for who has the best moves
while hoping we’re not the worst…
we bop and hop
like the floor is on fire,
soul entranced and conscience wired,
not even an eagle can get higher
we bounce
like a baby in a walker,
finding a way off the ground,
we are angel bound
we are the popcorn in the microwave,
exploding and popping
out the constrictive bag,
we are the bright side in a society full of bad
the faces show up in the crowd
reflecting off of flickering lights,
their bulbs nearly burned out
from the stress of shining
connecting the present
to a not so distant past
as we dance…
in a old deteriorating building
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Love always, Esha
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