I Am Not a Dancer

Do you really think it’s me in that picture?
Not anymore.
I didn’t know who I was then.
I didn’t know you then,
and I can’t ever remember
feeling more myself than
when I’m with you.
I can’t even tell you how old I am in that picture.
Seven? Maybe eight.
Those tap shoes are as uncomfortable as they look,
and I’m not exactly in love with those
big pink circles on my cheeks.
In fact, the only thing that picture and I
have in common is low self-esteem.
I wasn’t any more in love with myself
than with those hot pink patches of rouge on my face.
I wanted to be like the other girls
who seemed to fit into sequins and eyeshadow
so much better than I did.
That doubt grew out of those tights
right along with me so that now,
while I’m coughing and sneezing in bed,
I’m forced to wonder if you’d like me better
if I wore ballet slippers.
The truth is, jazz shoes
never felt as natural to me as
a pencil in my hand or
a flute at my lips.
I trip on my feet just walking up the stairs.
I’ve had surgery on my foot and as an
unexpected side effect
it has become physically impossible for me
to point my toe in perfect grace
like she does,
bend back, smile, and
shimmy around the floor,
because I am not a dancer.
I can’t even walk in heels for too long.
And the only reason I don’t feel like
an idiot for saying all this is because
you told me how cool it would be
if I took dance lessons,
like somehow I would be better
if I danced like your other girls did;
like it’s not enough for me to simply fall in love with you,
I have to plie and pirouette.
I am not a dancer,
and you forgot to call.
So while I’m blowing my nose raw
and watching Boy Meets World DVDs
I keep glancing at my pocket,
wondering if it will start vibrating
with your long-awaited phone call.
It never did.
But I think one way I know I love you is that
I called you anyway.
And tomorrow I won’t be mad.
You’ll apologize and I’ll say it’s okay
and smile, even if it is fake.
But it won’t be fake for long,
because I know it won’t take but mere seconds
for you to give my teeth a reason
to dance.