We are made for dancing

Finding another function of
the human body is impossible
while I am tangled in a string of
synths, beats, ballads, and treble.

What kind of alternative purpose
would my arms carry aside
from rising and falling to tunes
like a refreshing summer tide?

Trancing, dancing, romancing,
the bobbing of light-washed skulls
frames my perceptional painting--
They carry me through the booms and lulls.

My body -- a crisp leaf, is whisked
and caressed by the slight, mild wind.
Hypnotized and mesmerized, this place
is unlike anywhere I have ever been.