dance of youth

all around is insecurity – a room of adult children
slow-dancing three feet apart, like at a school dance
daring themselves to touch someplace new, daring,
and potentially warm and exciting
the disco ball and pounding music offer distraction
a blanket to mute the senses and excuse a move not attempted
drops of nervous sweat hang in the air
young love, or fear of its presence
a pleasant grin across the dance floor
a fleeting glance across the table
tip-toed steps, toward and away
the dance of eventual masturbation
never changes, gets old, out of style
never fulfills, disappoints
never ends
it just gets predictable

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