“Dishes and salsa”

This self-projection-
is it a problem?
i’m watching them dance.
i’m drinking my water.

i trip on my way
to the foam-filled sink,
dunking my hands and
craning    my    neck 
to see
the sexy guys with
the ear-to-ear smiles
holding the legs
of very sexy girls
over their heads
and grinding away
to the blare of the brass
from a salsa band;

the dishes are done.
i yank off my gloves.
the yellow rubber
snaps! like a drum

my socks carry me
across the kitchen,
i step
so gracefully
i almost forgot
who i was-
a clumsy giraffe
covered in dish soap.