The Rockettes
Now when those girls, all thirty-six, go to make their silky line, they do it slow, so slow and with a smile—they know we love it, we the audience. Our breaths suck in with a gasp you hear as their legs in casual unison wave this way then, and that, and their top hats tilt in one direction, and their sharp feet twinkle like a starry row as the pace picks up, and the lazy legs (thirty-six, thirty-six, what a sex to be limber and white and slender and fat all at once, all at once!) that seemed so calm go higher, higher in the wonderful kicks, like the teeth of a beast we have dreamed and are dreaming, like the feathers all velvet together of a violent contracting that pulls us in, then lets us go, that pulls us in, then lets us go; they smile because they know we know they know we know. John Updike