A Starlit Dance

My joy is on a growth spurt,

About to rip through the clothing
That is my chest cavity

Driving to the sounds of Beirut's East Harlem

They tempt to burst my ear drums

This Texas night's story is told by its smells

Soil, horse manure, skunk and spring

The quality of my driving is equal to that of a drunkards

Dizzied, simply by existence

Awed by the grand functioning of life

Straining to be heard

By myself

Over my own music 

I realize

The frogs would be better at 

Harmony than I

Slowing, 

So the trumpets and accordions
Bring this moment to a close

(Rather than my arrival at destination)

I smile at passers by,

If only they could share this moment

By hearing a glimpse of my ruckus

But how does one share the joy in their heart?

Upon return the duffle bag of laundry

Is left forgotten in the back seat

It had once been the purpose in flight

Now replaced

As if the trip were all for the sake of

Coloring my cheeks

Giggling, I return for the bag

Because…was it not? 

I disguise my childish delights 

With the face of responsibility