Dancing: a being so close. Sweet sangria, this salsa, this heat. Your strength: living verse embracing my waist. So close. That transpired acidity shows through to me. That our epidermis are wet synthesis, symbiosis. So close. That our cells secrete sap and fears. As if dancing hurt. As if the pain inside writhed. So close that so many parts of our bodies kiss, unwillingly and inconsequently. So close, never close enough.