A face behind the glass
I stared at you

Girls in leotards
walked in & out
of your little office

A shy child needing you
to sew a tear
you closed the door

Mothers gossiping
who got the best parts
in The Nutcracker

Shifting my weight
from foot to foot
pretending to read
an old magazine
was my dance

Twice I went out for air
then returned to wonder
at your rice powder face
& when you walked down the hall
I admired your ass

I heard you had a boyfriend
but was unhappy
with his abuses

I wondered if you ever
danced away from those men

I gave you my dance
in an envelope
asked you to read it later
it had the moon in it

When the dance class ended
my niece stage-whispered
“Did you talk to her?”

© Bob Rixon
The Balancing Beam