rushing in
booming out
the speakers,
blare right in our ears.
the notes, of the music
right into our movements
it soothes
its somatic
everything but dramatic.
homecoming season,
(its here)

right at your eyes.
its not my demise.
its beautifully our disguise,
as we slip into the door.
we come together, once more.

the sun on my arms,
painting pictures on the walls
as the lights
dim,
as the lights,
go out.
and the sky lights up who we are.

we blend,
we jam,
moving our bodies
to new extents.
moving the way
our mothers
told us not to.

its inevitably here.