The music circles me,
pausing, leaning in,
stepping back to inspect...
teasing breath down my neck,
a whisper in my ear,
to break some rule -
I stay cool,
though it takes all my strength to face front,
when you're pulling this stunt!
A certain conspiracy of chords
takes control of my muscles:
neck cricks, head turns,
under other instruction.
It is as though you have reached
a hand through the ether,
to tilt my chin in your direction,
better to admire the curve of my cheek,
the more easily to command my attention.
I thrust my hand up in return,
to pull you into my existence,
but the music lets it fall,
as though you aren't here at all.

What can I do, but press Replay.