To Dance

I always wished that I could dance.
It really irritates me
How stupid I look doing it
Because my body hates me

It won’t do what I tell it to;
I call but it won’t answer.
Of course, I married somebody
Who used to be a dancer

I’m game to try it, though, in spite
Of being kind of spastic:
But if I could be good at it?
Now that
Would be


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