May I cut in? by Morgan Burrows

Excuse me, Lacoste,

may I cut in

to your dance?

May I spin you around

and around

till we are both dizzy

with the world?

May I cut in,

to have the time of my life,

swaying eight weeks with you,

to the song of time?


May I cut in?  I hate

to interrupt,

but I’m surely better

than the dance partner

with whom you’re stuck.


I’ll amaze you

with my talented moves,

each stride of my pen,

each stroke of my brush.


And only if I cut in,

will you know who I am…

and you’ll come running after me,

to once again grab my hand.

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