High School Danse

High school dance from long ago
Remembered in every detail;
At the far end of the school gym,
A band, four boys, just like us,
Except tonight, oh no, tonight
They belong to an altogether superior race.

At the near end, our teachers,
Dressed up and looking out of place
Policing the length of girls' skirts
And trying to keep their breasts
(Such as they were) from any contact
While slow dancing with the boys


The long walls were for wallflowers,
Each sex buttressing its own,
Eyeing the other side furtively
While pretending to watching the band,
Between them a vast space
Sparsely populated with dancing couples.

Every now and then, a boy
Would peel himself off his wall
And walk across that length
That seemed to expand to six soccer fields
As he tried to cross it; his object dimly perceived
As he was looking at the floor in front of his feet.

And he just knew that everything about him
Was so visible to every girl that would soon start
Pretending she was too tired to dance:
His pimples, his glasses, his sweaty hands,
His unfashionable shoes, and his pants
That never saw the inside of a foreign currency store.

"At least being a lousy dancer won't matter much now."
He would think to himself walking back across the vast space.