_Improve My Dancing_

_Improve My Dancing_

She's dancing with him
again
and I am jealous.

I am covetous
of the way
he holds her,
their paired steps,
her closed eyes.

I imagine myself
cutting in
between them,
right there
on the dance floor,
accusing him of something
just to start a fight.

The song finally ends.
They leave the floor.
I stare at her
until I catch her eye.
My invitation is accepted.

As the music starts
and we begin to move,
I wonder if murder
would improve my dancing.