our bodies bounce and bend as if we’re requesting entry into the grooves
of the dusty Smokey Robinson record that crackles and skips
but we continue our dance like we’re back in 1969
long before we met but we remember the dreams that we had as kids, the feelings that we had as kids
when the air was different / when the care was different
we wondered what it would be like, the way it would look, the way it would feel…whatever it was
but we would only catch the last part of sentences, the parts that would sound the best- what some would call climaxes-
where the men would start laughing and the women would start shushing them, saying “them kids might be listening!” We were…
and here we are, bringing the dust to our tongues like the sugar we licked off our fingers when we were kids…
The Muse Minefield 