While the band strums

knowing only the ways of the guitar

the clustered crowd dances.

However, they only play for the well-bred women. 

Her shadow dancing upon the wall 

like the king of the jungle on his hind legs.

People watch, engaged,

engaged in the way she moves with grace

engaged in the way she sways effortlessly 

engaged in the way she strides as a show-stopper.

The men watch, in hopes the zipper holding her dress together comes loose,

the women watch, praying they looked like her

the little girls watch, longing to one day look like the women dancing before them.`

Is that what it would be like to be beautiful? 

To have something that other people desperately desire?