they used to leap around and prance it always was the same old dance
they tied their feet onto the floor and moved the way they did before
They thought about a new romance and maybe learn another dance
to sway and swing with something more Then dance the way they did before
They thought about a different tune the music from the rising moon swelling from the coral sea
the beating heart, the melody
the dance unleashed, the feet set free the swaying possibility
As a writer now living in the tropics, I sometimes wonder how I ever got here. I often feel something similar while writing a novel or long story, banging on the keys for hours. I begin to imagine myself a kayaker moving fast down a river that shrinks into a creek and...