Tango

We are learning to tango.

You lead, I follow.
I step backwards, again and again.
You step forward, to the left to the right.
With my chest I follow you, always stepping backwards.

I can't see where we are going.
But you can.
You guide me around other couples,
and sometimes spin me abruptly away from a collision.

I don't notice, until I take them off,
how my feet mold firmly to the shape of the high heels.
When I take them off I forget for a second how to walk normally.
My toes and heel bend backward,  away from the ground.

I can't wait to go again.