let's go dancing

i just love
to dance, she
says. don't you?
she wiggles her
hips, shimmies her
shoulders and shakes
her arms high
into the air.
i used to, i
tell her. i used
to go out dancing
five a week. i had
to buy a new
pair of wingtips
every other month.
but now i like
to tap my foot
on the floor
and keep the beat.
sometimes i'll
drum my fingers
on the table, or
clink a spoon
against a glass if
i'm really into
the music and having
a good time.
are you saying then
that you won't
dance with me
she says, with a pout
on her face. oh, no
not at all, i
tell her. i can
dance. i just
need alot of room.
alot of space
to dance the way
i like to. this
place is way
too crowded for
my style of
dancing. say, why
don't we finish our
drinks and go
back to my place,
put some records
on the old
turntable. i'll
show you some
dancing then. okay?