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  • I’m nervous
    in spite of my skills with illusion
    I’m freaking out
    Dancing with you is nerve-racking

    It’s not your fault, I swear
    It’s not you, it’s me
    scanning the dance floor
    desperate to avoid the intimate awkwardness
    of my thoughts

    The other couples seem oblivious to my troubles
    save that one guy
    you might have dated freshman year
    he’s giving me the stink eye
    I wink
    I don’t think you notice

    Fuck! I’ve stepped on your foot
    it’s the shoes, rentals
    like my tuxedo
    two sizes to big
    shining, reflecting lights
    that seem to be illuminating from your eyes
    a beautiful, bright blue-green
    against the swirling blackness

    You’re too pretty for me, and my palms are sweaty
    Sorry about that
    Sorry about your foot
    Sorry about this dance
    Sorry about me

    But when you smile
    I smile

    I’m here
    with you.
    What’s not to smile about?

    Slow Dance by James Bratton
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