Foxes Trot Poem by stewart green

My punctuality could not be questioned
Manicured wet palms ready for the introduction
Formality is the magnet in this house of students and guides

Mine is friendly and ready to impart
Outward beauty demands attention
Confidence was born the day the gods gave her form

Straining to keep eye contact my nature tugs at me
But respect is earned slowly and lost in seconds
The timeless blue print of chemistry surfacing fast

Caution blinkers the risk of being stereotyped
My peripheral vision franticly alerting me
Desire to steal a glance drowns out all their wind notes

Swaying hips hypnotises like a feline in car beams
Frozen in ancient synchronised rhythm
left foot to start the strange prism

At the last step I linger and openly acknowledge admiration
An extended pause without defense in the sight of my scan
Our sparkling eyes echoing mutual appreciation.