Confectionery

In Sweet Offerings my feet

refuse to stand still

as I hear an old jukebox song

coming from behind

the glass front candy counters,

Buddy Holly singing

That'll be the Day

and again in the succulent store

piped-in rhythm and blues,

where I realize I cannot NOT dance,

cannot deny the drum beat,

frivolous familiar tunes.

I dance in the oddest places,

feel only slightly embarrassed

or not at all,

having somehow outgrown caring

what strangers might consider

as peculiar or improper.

I will never be invited

to dance the jive with the stars

don't require a live band,

take rhythm where I find it,

rock and roll through life.