Will I dance tonight?
When I woke up tired, woke again under a hot shower, put on a dress, forgot my comb, rushed to the bus, crushed my clothes, listened with earphones to Anderson Paak, dissed the younger man who has a crush on me because he won't tell me how old he is - by text, had a free cup of coffee, said good morning to five people I passed in the hall even though it does not feel like a good morning to me, swore a banana would be all I'll eat for lunch, was misunderstood, peed out belly fat busting vitamins, hunched over on the computer, charged my phone, thought about the question a woman who is too curious asked me:
"If I didn't know better I would think you were out and about with a boyfriend." she said.
"No boyfriend." I said.
What business is it of hers?
Trying to be girly-girl friends.
"No. Not me!" I said.
"You know how rumors start," I said. She thought for a moment about that one.
I wore a dress. I almost never wear a dress. But it's summer. Officially. Past Memorial Day. It is an old dress I can't remember buying, my best dress, an eternal dress, floral by Ralph Lauren. And there is a dance tonight. And I'm going and it's nobody's business but mine.
A dinner dance. I signed up by scanning. I'm thinking of the songs I would play if I were the DJ. I'm hoping the music won't be too dreary. I hope it won't be people sitting around the perimeter, up against the walls, watching other people dance.
I hope everyone makes a fool of themselves.
That's the difference between then and now.
I'm much more willing to make a fool of myself now.
And let other people take me or leave me.
So maybe, someone might ask me to dance and I'll say no.
Or maybe I'll walk over to someone and say, "Can I have this dance?" and it will be a slow song and he will be the only one I think of as My Sweet Prince.
C 2024 Christine Trzyna
