Sunday, September 15, 2013

You’re A Dancer Day!

Don’t tell him so. Show him. Dance. Dance around your apartment with complete and utter surrender to the movement. Your body is your mind. Show him your thoughts are flourishes. Your feelings are leaps. You brood with your toes. You cry with a single cock of the chin. You’re a dancer. Dance for him.

“What the hell?” he’ll say when you finish. “You broke all of the lamps. You’re a terrible dancer.”

Now he knows. He knows you’re a dancer.

“You’re a really terrible dancer!” he’ll say again. “The worst dancer ever. You’re bleeding even.”

It’s clear to him. He saw it and can’t deny it. You’re a dancer.

“The absolute worst dancer I’ve ever seen,” he’ll go on, confirming and reiterating that you’re a dancer, and you dance. “Ever. Ever ever. Ever ever ever! You are the worst dancer in the history of dance.”

You are a part of the history of dance. He knows it. For he knows that you are a dancer.

“She’s the worst!” he’ll shout, yelling at this blogpost. “The worst!”

But you are a dancer. He admitted it himself, despite his criticism. You’re a dancer.

Happy You’re A Dancer Day!