In a haze of green, the dancers sway,
Each twirl a joint, each step a puff,
They giggle and stumble, lost in the fray,
With munchies in hand, they just can’t get enough.
Who will win? Only time will say,
As they glide 'round the floor, feeling oh so tough.
Lucinda, the queen, with her shimmy so grand,
Her moves like smoke, they rise and twirl,
Crispy potato chips now litter the sand,
She mimes a taco, gives a wink and a whirl,
But tripping on nachos, she can hardly stand,
Yet the crowd roars loudly; they’re all in a swirl.
Then there’s Stan, with his high-flying grace,
He thinks he’s a bird, soaring way above,
But tripping on air, he loses the race,
“What’s the score?” he asks, giving a shrug of love,
As he flaps his arms, trying to find his place,
The judges just laugh; they can’t get enough.
In the corner stands Ellen, all giggles and bliss,
With her floppy sock puppets, she’s capturing hearts,
She twerks like a pro, can’t resist a kiss,
While her dance moves resemble a fine form of arts,
But fumbling her drink? That’s pure hit-or-miss,
Splashes abound as she simply departs.
As the music blares on, the judges convene,
They scratch their heads, “What was that last flip?”
Awards go to laughter, and it’s all quite obscene,
For all our high dancers have taken a trip.
With a nod and a grin, they form the scene,
Falling in love with the whole cosmic quip.
So here’s to the night, where we danced on a dream,
Baked and beruffled in shimmering light,
If you think you can judge, you don’t know the theme;
Just revel in giggles, indulgence, delight.
In this contest of high spirits, humor does gleam,
And perhaps, in the end, we’re all winners tonight!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
