A word is dancing on the edge of my tongue.
I can't control her shimmies and cha-cha-chas.
I keep my teeth clenched, barring her
From the world. She just keeps dancing.
Sometimes, she escapes, and moonwalks her way
Into people's ears, where she grinds up
Against their eardrums, teasing their brains
With her gyrating hips.
But no matter how excited these brains become,
Her body always moves to the rhythm of my own,
And she always comes home to her place
Behind my teeth, to dance out the rest of her
Sentence, never stopping to sleep, always
Quickening her pace.
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