What some of us have becomeA Poem by eglantineI'm tired of all this twenty-first century, egoistic rap-crap. I want to sip on an apple martini and tap my foot to the grand swing of a 1950's big brass band. No gyrating, 'f**k-me' grinding, but playful and genuine dancing--rhythmic motion responding to that large golden sound and smiling because being spun, rolled out like a clarinet trill, and then wrapped back into hand-in-hand is so much more flirtacious than plams on the floor and butt straight up in the air. © 2012 eglantineAuthor's Note
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18 Reviews Added on June 20, 2012 Last Updated on June 20, 2012 |

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