It is never too late
to learn how to
moonwalk on a
summer night
as limes dissolve
into the glimmer
of reposado
beneath a moving
canopy of yellow
monarchs. I hope
that we believe
there is always
more dancing
to be done
and at ninety
when you yell,
Slide flat! Then lift!
Then switch!
I will laugh
into my tilted lawn
chair because
after fifty years
of practice, I still
won’t be as good
as you, and it
won’t matter as
I clap while you
glide, slide, lift, switch,
glide, slide, lift, switch
across the grass,
the sequins
of my one white
glove glittering
in the moonlight.
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