Q. What makes you dance?
What is it
that inspires you to stand
and step
and strut and stride
all over the floor
and do it some more
until there’s sweat and blood
and sick and gore?
What makes you dance?

A. I don’t want to be hurt
so I dance in splendid isolation
away from a partner
separate from a crew.
I dance alone
proud but divested from the crowd.

A. My cousin Tony dances to be seen.
He’s really good.
He looks the cock of the walk
when he goes under the flashing lights.
Everyone wants to dance with him.

A. I wish to drink of the sin
of the body
knowing flesh
and testing it
to capacity
but with little chance of hangover.
I want to taste the fire of the devil
and not get burnt.

A. When the right song comes on
at just the right time
that hit from last year
you were always singing to
with your friends
and you’re out with your friends
and one of them starts the charge
onto the dancefloor
it becomes something unstoppable
a downward boulder
and you know
some funky steps are coming.

A. When she calls you a future soulmate
and you just want to feel closer.

A. When you hope to be
the prettiest girl at the dance
but you know you lack the proper plumage
and you think,
“Maybe there’s another way,
to prove myself
special.”

A. When David Bowie tells you to.

A. All of the above.