I can’t dance, I said.
And she said ‘It’s like swimming’
But I can’t do that either.
‘Because you get nervous, I bet.’
Because there’s so much under you
hell, monsters, angels, saints,
the deliman you stole two croissants from,
hell, hell, hell, hell, no floor, no life, no source
no footing, no knowing, nothing steady and
She hadn’t said a word.
‘What you can’t touch you do not understand,
so you panic. You can’t live when you can’t stand,
or feel. Couldn’t believe what won’t touch,
couldn’t be sure of what you can’t know.’
I nodded and hadn’t said a word.
‘Do you know what the secret to swimming is?’
I shook my head, but before Anna could answer,
a man came and swept her dainty hand in his.
Striding towards the dance floor with her in tow,
limp and swaying. I watched them sway their waist
and rhythms and bend and fold until they disappeared among the flow
sure and unhinged, let the strangers body press
each sway wile her thing and pale arms flayed straight into the air,
buoyed to the earth by his hands along.
“Well?” Asked Sam. And I nodded.
“It’s letting go.”