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the streets of Miami--that was my dance school
by Hezekiah Allen Taylor

but Arthur Murray always refused
to leave the sacred confines of his car
he feared the openly gay men parading by
he believed they should go back to the closet
lock themselves in, bolt the door, nail it shut

for it was "nobody's business" he said
aloud to his interior, the soft blue-gray
absorbing the emphasis like a church whisper

and I was left outside, wanting in the car
wanting in the crowd, wanting more than anything--
more than anything in the world--
to be able to hold a woman with such poise,
such fuckin' reserve

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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