The sensation I feel, the cessation of fear...who knew letting go could be so right

I always want to be there then but
I
could be there now--dancing, barefoot
through summer streets
toes lapping hot pavement, grit in my feet
twirling my dress like any
dervish...devilish,
my eyes' grip on gray and silky plumes--the most lovely
kind
of muck.
I'd breathe it, in and out,
and I would
dance,
barefoot on the hardwood floors
of Heaven's basement.
We'd play Billie Holiday and those floors
would creak
to the beat
and I
would sigh
my chest would heave
in tune with someone more like me,in that place
that more likes me...
and baby,
would I dance--
take off my toe rings and stack them.
Though the pizza grease might make them slip,
I wouldn't cry if I
lost my grip, when I lost my grip...
just hold my wine and sip
and spill
with every step
I'd dance.