“I want to dance.
Turn the music on.
Awwwh, Zeus is on the stage.”
(The two-foot, puzzle-edged, black,
workshop floor pad square,)
I shew the dog off, and put the four
squares together in a long line.
“Dance with me, Oma!”
We ballet-jazz-modern-I-don't-know-what
dance across the stage together,
switching sides, back-and-forth,
to the old Dean Martin songs Pandora
plays on our Grace radio.
Now she has 100 %
of my attention.
That
was what
she really
wanted.
by: Paula D. Nevison
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