The Dance

May I dance?
May I dance, may I dance,
Wear my stocking-feet through
to a mesh and keep going,
Increasing, not slowing,
My heart it is growing,
Effervescing and glowing -
But can't have you knowing
I sleep most nights on the ceiling for you,
helium-footed and high over you
I can't have you knowing
That I'm self-righteously optimistic,
Cross-classroom voyeuristic
Sadistic
For dancing like this, skiffle-stepped to silence

While the jealous future self sits in the corner
And wishes she never saw herself so happy,
So that she'd have no-one to envy.
She won't dance with me -

Will you pull her from her seat?
And each future self, we'll both get to meet -
Dance with her.