viii.

i wanted you to teach me how to dance.
i pictured us in your livingroom,
stereo turned loud, your hands on my hips
just swaying. though your
dances (i imagine) are too fluid to hold me,
loosened by the drugs, the

music—look at us two dancing / eyes in eyes
only the maroon carpet watching us,
supporting us until we
fall

into rhythm. beat to beat
resounding against our chests,
palatable /
          palpitating.