Push. Push. Push. Pull. Longing. Toss, run around me, swoop me into your arms, but not too close…I may push you away. Wrestle, toss, interact… in all the ways I’m supposed to. In all the ways you think I’m supposed to. In all the ways society wants me to. Maybe we’ll move together; I’ll leap over you, you’ll lunge with me, roll with me, offer me your hand or leg… or heart. Swaying, soft movement, hiding, and then you are pushing and pulling me again. I’m dancing on tables, dancing on the grass, dancing on your shoulder, dancing on the ground, in the air, I’m swaying to the loud beats, and then the subtle piano, the strings… all making my body twitch and turn, and I’m lost.

You watch me on the video screen. Impulses soar through my body. I leap into the air. I force my arm to flex for you, preen for you. You continue to watch, slow waltz with me as the video camera captures every inch of my body. I see you watching me. I wonder what would happen if I turned the camera on you. Would you disappear? Would you reflect me? Would you still want to watch me move, dance, flirt?

Turning on the T.V. It speaks to me. But so do you. And it doesn’t matter if I wear a big dress or tight shorts – a sweat band or a soft chemise, I’m still pretty to you. I’m still ugly. To you I’m still here. Dancing. Push. Push. Push. Pull.