I Dance with Daniel

We live in a world of pretense.

You expect something of me.

When we walk,

when we talk

we are judging.

We love categories.

But not with him.

With him I dance.

I know the steps,

like they've been there all along.

The steps are me,

something so familiar but frightening.

And when I'm with him I don't think

of which steps to take;

I feel,

like when I feel the music I dance to.

With him I do not pretend.

He knows who I am,

and that is refreshing.

This is not a tango we dance,

it is more like a pas-

it's slow and entirely open.

If he places me in a category

it is not to tell me that category

is somehow unacceptable.

When he judges me,

he deems me worthwhile.

He won't read this,

for that I'm happy.

But I wish I could tell him:

thank you for dancing.