DPF21's profile

dance |dans| |døns| |dɑːns| verb [ intrans. ] 1 move rhythmically to music, typically following a set sequence of steps : their cheeks were pressed together as they danced. 2 [with adverbial of direction ] (of a person) move in a quick and lively way : Sheila danced in gaily. These are the definitions for the word “dance” according to the Oxford American Dictionary. Though they may seem similar upon first glance, in my experience, they are in fact very distinct. The dancing that most people r...

Written on pages of individual history, Neatly perforated, college-ruled, A note - a breath of fresh air. Chalk dust catches afternoon light; Lunch souring in the stomach. I wrote something down for you On a slice of tree From deep, dark, dappled woods, Sunlight neatly perforating the shadows, Deer carefully cracking the branches. Here it is, passed between sweaty palms. Pencil, pen: Love in its simplest, truest form. Loose leaf: does your heart skip, breath catch? Mine does.

Her house was like a church, A temple to something undefined. I imagined the kitchen once Through the frame of a garage door garage door. I saw an inner sanctum; a tabernacle On which were posted pictures by silly magnets, Newspaper articles and a recipe. There were countertops and pots and pans, Spices and condiments, All things available for purchase At the local supermarket. But aside from the usual apparatuses and seasonings, Behind them or among them, There was a quality that made them u...

Part I: The Roadhouse I’ve never claimed to have much worldly experience. I know that I am grossly naïve. Out of this ignorance I had mistakenly assumed that a “Roadhouse” was something only seen in the slick, blow-dried eighties movie starring Patrick Swayze. But this morning I am here to tell you that the tradition of the Roadhouse is alive and well, thriving here at the outskirts of Raleigh at a club called the Longbranch. When we walk in, the entrance is quiet and subdued. We pass a coupl...

Part I: The Roadhouse I’ve never claimed to have much worldly experience. I know that I am grossly naïve. Out of this ignorance I had mistakenly assumed that a “Roadhouse” was something only seen in the slick, blow-dried eighties movie starring Patrick Swayze. But this morning I am here to tell you that the tradition of the Roadhouse is alive and well, thriving here at the outskirts of Raleigh at a club called the Longbranch. When we walk in, the entrance is quiet and subdued. We pass a coupl...