The Dancing Gentleman

He lingers
as the music sways
           alone,
yet surrounded.
A tune
          inside
rummaging around,
like a full jar
          of marbles.
His face
          of white solitude,
pale as
          the milky white
of an egg
         which sizzles in
the frying pan.

This dancer,
         in the rose red suit
steps daintily, then hard
         slams those shiny dancing shoes
black and white,
         stripes on his zebra tie.
Curly auburn hair
         rips across his skull.
Pointy goatee, smothered in oil.
And lips, so thin
        hardly seen at all.

Eyes still closed,
        the beat thumps
on the dance floor.
He is alone,
        yet further more,
at peace with himself.

The dance floor dims,
       song shuts down.
The dancing gentleman
   still taps
       to the music
ringing in his heart.