iced tea
waiting for my
sandwich
I see her
two feet tall
with leotards
and black
patent-leather shoes
she dances
twirls
raises her arms
in tune
with an invisible
orchestra
she sees me
watching
and ducks
her head
touching her chin
to her chest shyly
but then
some inner voice
tells her
it doesn't matter
and she piroettes
into the center
of the aisle
her hair fanning out
around her
from behind
a booth
an older boy
apears
with family resemblance
with gel-spiked
hair
and light up
super hero sneakers
he takes
the floor
shaking his booty
to a funkier beat
pumping his arms
driving a rhythm
stomping his feet
he smiles at me
energized by attention
making it up
as he goes along
feeling the music
riding the beat
letting the song
guide the choreography
I watch them
dancing to different drummers
and pray
they never lose
the music
in their souls.
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