There are no rules in tango. No certain steps to memorize. There is no net. There is only the trapese of your partner's arms and the music.
     We walked in circles, strangers. Forward. Backward. It seemed familiar to me with the first step. I danced with the teacher. I kept my eyes on her eyes. Where she led, I followed.
     Strangers all, we were paired. Couples split and the very few Individuals that come on their own, myself included in that small fraction, slid in like clever interlopers. Each woman moved down the line of dance until we had been with each man present.
     I am partnerless. I come to tango with empty hands but with an open heart. Maybe once I learn to dance, my parter will show himself.
     I am not afraid to move.