Still, just a shape,
a mannequin for a dress,
a pleasent form, or an irregular eyesore.
But in motion, no mere mobile.
Grace is glorious, but not to be singly valued. Angular energy,
long limbs pinwheeling, please, please, please.
No two alike, an uninkable fingerprint
playing across my cornea.
That rolling gait, so inefficient,
which I followed, and thus my fate.