Enough to get me by.

You'd be disappointed in me. If you saw me try to physically navigate the dance floor. I can dance. Nimbly. Gracefully. Like a lover. In my imagination. As a spirit. But as a physical being. An actual performer of the dance. I am a miserable failure. I settle for dancing. In my dreams. Sure. Tell me I can learn to dance. No. No. It is impossible. I am deficient. I can walk and run. Nimbly and  athletically. Like a gazelle. With amazing endurance. And dexterity. But to dance. That is something else. Call me deprived. But I find ways to make up for it. With words that dance. I exploit my strengths. To compensate for my weaknesses/deficiencies.  Another thing. I can't sing. But I write poetry. That dances. And sings, too. Enough to get me by. --Jim