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Apr 2017
You float over the concrete
the way driftwood rides the ocean waves,
smooth and graceful.
Your arms rise to the sky
in sync with your legs
like a puppet,
but you hold your own strings,
you control your own movements
so seamlessly
as if you were born
with a board beneath your feet.
Your eyes hold focus
how a starving man
holds a scrap of bread,
not fully moldy in the garbage.
You spin and swap your body
with the lash of a whip
and how I wish you'd crack me
just once
so I could taste your precision.
How beautiful a sight it is
to see someone so perfectly aligned
with the Earth
that gravity allows you a pass
on the rules.
And when you're finished
the passion that beams from you
is so intoxicating,
I'm too unsteady on my feet
to try to follow.
Written by
Donielle  30/F/Pennsylvania
(30/F/Pennsylvania)   
882
   Johnny Scarlotti
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