January keeps coming like a freight train

Brownies for breakfast,
my boots are still wet,
my bike was stolen,
I'm late for dance class.

"Use your back" my flamenco teacher says
"Reach through water"
"Use your positions"
"You don't know how to use your strength."

I reach to the side
"Your arm is bent"
I reach to the side
"Your arm is bent"
I reach to the side
"Straighten your arm.
"You're shortening your line"

"Elbows" she says
"Elbows"
"Where's your base arm?"
"Where's your base arm?"

I'm turning
"Your arms are all over the place"
I try to put my arms in place
"I am telling you to put your arms in place
but they're all over the place"
I'm turning
"Your arms are all over the place"

"You have to change your habits.
You have to let go of those old ways."
"Flamenco is hard. Why do we do it?
We must like the punishment."

"Use your back. You don't know how to use your back.
I'm trying to tell you what to do.
You're not doing it.
You're just doing the same thing again."

Between every step,
I shake my head, hard,
trying to clear out all the old clutter,
to absorb everything new.
Holding my elbows this way hurts
but it looks much better.

"Is that enough, girl?" she asks me
"Have you had enough?"