Dance It Off

"Divorce is outside, and so are the tax collectors coming to ensure me my hangover..."

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with a leg-split kick
    only she could think of,
that memory we have
    only I can remember:
stale marijuana air,
    yellow dance lights
waving through the dark,
    and the sweat,
    and the sweat.
 
Breathing is a memory too.
    I see you, the million yous,
one snake on the dance floor,
    like a swan cruising electricity
propelled by our step-steps.
 
Divorce is outside,
    and so are the tax collectors
coming to ensure me my hangover—
    dance, dance, step
over the pain and
    forget
these moments stuck to me like ticks,
    the same ones
she doesn’t know she’s always had,
    here on the slick, lonely floor

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