jeans and a T-shirt

jeans and a t-shirt

walking inside

i felt very shy

amongst the

doors

draped in yellow fabric

confidently greeting

me-

or the green pasty

henna

that lay in a metal orbital

on the

floor,

dressed in colorful foils

whose distinct creamy oils

i could taste and feel

at any chance.

but now my Focus

was in the room

ahead

of Me,

where people danced

to

r h y t h m s

very loud and ch-op-py

not afraid to wiggle like

water.

and people sang songs

to the beat

of a leather drum

that stayed very static

for every song.

“who is she?” i say

to my cheerfully

clapping

coat-taker

as i point towards the

felicity Girl

confidently twirling

her hands

and arms

and feet

in a patterned

swish.

“the Bride.” she

replies

while tossing me

a weird look

as she tosses my coat

behind us.

“oh.” I’m being

                                            dragged into

the whirlpool

of dance

by the queen of ice

herself

and in this moment

i wished i knew

how

to create mystical art

or at least-

was wearing something comparable

to the draped doors

or a

tennis racket.

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