Jive Feet

Hey feet, my bony old friends,
what are you doing down there?

You keep walking me into trouble
then standing flat-footed
when I try to hoof it.

Last night
when I saw that pair of high heels
sashay over to the bar
with that look on her face
you should have danced me to her side.

But no, you shuffled me over
like a hick from the hills,
no strut, no stance.

And then as I stood there empty-headed,
wanting to run for the door,
you gave me that snail's gait pace
that lasts forever.

What gives? Why the stutter step
when we used to dance the Flamenco?

Hey feet, my bony old friends,
could we try this dance again?