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Movement
My first memory
Moving through Publix on my daddy’s shoulder
My stick-straight straw hair
Mixing with his brown curls
Watching everyone behind me
Grab their ramen noodles
And pay for their cigarettes
I didn’t need money
Then.
His hairy arms supported
My back, toying with my new shoes
That Grandma got on sale at Penny’s
He wasn’t talking to me
His words were for my mother
Or whoever was in front of him
But I was content
To listen to the steady hum
Of his bass voice
Creating the music
For our dance
As his footsteps thudded into the floor,
Jostling me, bumping me
As I danced
He spun me around on white tile floors
Laughing as I grabbed my toes
Twirling on my butt
I never liked my feet
But I respected them
For they bore the scars
Of ballet shoes
Of tap shoes
Of jazz shoes
And countless other shoes
Signifying
Sedulous
Dance.
I am always moving something
My brain
My body
Moving to a steady beat
That only the two of us hear
Humming
Rocking back and forth
Numbing myself to the world
I find my happy place
Leaping through the air
In wooden shoes
As his blue eyes smile at me
From the crowd
Singing 80’s songs
After baths
Throwing me into the air,
Helping me touch the ceiling
And my dreams
Sashaying
Twirling
Swinging
He is always happy
And ready
To dance with me
My favorite partner
I was happiest on his shoulder
Thumb in my mouth, head leaning against his
When I was small enough
To be swept up in two seconds
He never complained
Never told me I was too heavy
His footsteps thudded out
A rhythm in my brain
Hypnotizing me into sleep’s black cloak
His napping technique.
His arms are too sore
To lift me up
And my ballet shoes
Lie behind wooden closet doors
Exchanged for soccer cleats
But he’s still dancing
Twirling me in his arms
To a beat
Only we
Can hear.
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