Sense Sonnet - Steamer

 Bad Pick

It was in sixth grade that we had

The first school dance that I went to.

Beforehand, worried I'd be bad,

Mom showed a few steps I could do.

At the dance, soon a teacher got

A boy I knew to be a creep

To ask me to dance, I was caught

In a pickle, but tried to keep

My wits, as we went on the floor.

I hoped for a very quick close,

But he gyrated more and more,

And stuck his finger up my nose.

So embarrassed, to feeling sick,

That this first dance had been my pick.