The Tuesday night ballroom
is not in London or Paris
or Monte Carlo or Vienna.
The Tuesday night ballroom
is a bar near the harbor, named
for a beach in Australia.
The Tuesday night ballroom
is not all crystal and mirror-
polished parquet.
The Tuesday night ballroom
has plastic chairs, pool-tables we push
out of the way.
The Tuesday night ballroom
doesn't host ladies in gowns
or men in tuxedos.
The Tuesday night ballroom
is home to us regular folk, a mix
of ballroom-dancing students.
But when we're in it, the
Tuesday night ballroom skips-
cha-cha-cha-right through space!
So we can waltz in Vienna
or samba in Rio, or dance
the foxtrot just any place.
The Tuesday night ballroom
is where we shed troubles
like boots grown too tight,
and leave our daytime self
behind, where fantasy lifts our feet,
we feel light-in the magical ballroom
on Tuesday night.