BreakDance

I walk towards a school-house

through sizzling evening rain;

I’m heading for a disco

ominous in my brain

but I know my son will be dancing

out and into my brain

 

but only spotlights boogie,

colour surging round

on empty wooden floorboards

spurred by beatbox sound

hammering walls and my brainbox

in pulsing waves of sound

 

and out from the dark he races,

bounces into the beat,

spins like a whirling dervish

twisting up the heat

Elvis on the dance floor;

a host, a hit, in heat.

 

What is it with this dancing?

What do I need to learn?

A welling in my heart-source;

a love, a pride, a burn?

Expression of the vital

teaching turn on turn.