forthebook's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- dancing Momemts tied to music in my head pull me back to times like nothing else. I was standing in the street last night with The Boyfriend's hand firmly grasped in my own. We were waiting in line to get into that night's too crowded venue for some alcohol and dance time. As the warm air pulled the music down from the club in a whirl of sound and flurry, one song came on. I can't describe it. I know neither the name, the artist nor any of the lyrics - but I remember dancing to it. I remember dancing to the fluid rhythms with another boy who moved like the essence of grace was bottled into his well muscled limbs. It was only recently we had begun to see each other out in the scene again, as I had pulled completely out of it after getting together with the present beau. That night I saw him and he asked me to dance was before The Boyfriend was home. It was in a club where I had come with no one and tired of those I'd come to meet. Wandering aimlessly, he found me by chance and walked me out onto the dance floor; the middle of the dance floor, where people surround you and forget you in the sweaty rhythm of the bass and the fuzzy intoicated feelings. Oh, the way he moved in the light, with the music, with me and for everyone else. I couldn't compare myself or what meager skills I'd picked up to him. He dances like he owns a room and when he dances, he does. He dances as if the room is for him, the song is for him, the music and the night is for him - but he danced that night to make me look good. Smiling through the alcohol and the pleasure of watching him, I let him take my hands - just by the fingertips - and he led me in his movements, he pulled me into the song with him, in the middle of that flurried dance floor and he made me want him for the whole night. I remember twining one wrist along the back of his neck, feeling the slight sweat building there while my other hand landed and fluttered away from his chest in beat with the flashing lights. I could smell his cologne as it seeped from him to me with each contact of our bodies and I relished in every butterfly quick touch he gave me, each airey graze of skin upon skin. Dancing with him makes me long for summers gone by where he chased me and danced for me too, instead of just with me. 4:15 p.m. - 2005-06-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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