Skipping
Walking my heart (good boy!) after lunch,
suddenly my bored step hitches, stutters,
propels me firmly up and forward, and look,
I’m skipping, I’m skipping, I’m skipping
like I haven’t in over half a century, one foot
then the other bouncing lightly on its ball,
springing my dull earthbound body along
like a rock across water, lightly touching down,
like a cantering horse on the verge of a gallop,
a syncopated gait that swings my arms out
for balance like the girls’ when I was a kid
but so what, I let hands and hips sashay,
lost my partner, what’ll I do, skip to my Lou,
my darling heart leaping in my lifted chest
as I dance on down the sidewalk, double-time.
— Michael McFee
