Poetry and the Taps

I don't have a picture of my first tap shoes. They were white as everyone's were. When we bought them brand new, shiny bright. They came with an inch-wide grograin ribbon that went through the two holes and tied into a beautiful bow. Of course that had to be replaced with something more function for a three-year-old child. Out came the ribbon. In went a loop of inch-wide elastic. It was the same as everyone's. Dancers in our dancing school looked alike as a rule.

I took to tap dancing right away. It was mathematical. It was like talking with my feet. The steps had names with syllables that matched the taps they made. Shuf-fle, shuf-fle, ball, change. Step, dig, step. Step, dig, step. They matched the words they made.

My friend, Peg, said I write poetry because of the math. I'll have to tell her that it's also because of the taps.

--me strauss Letting me be