Improv of "Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing"

So I thought to myself after reading the poem, what would she feel like after dancing each day?

Nothing is more opaque
than absolute transparency.
Look- the smiling comes to an end
and all the men retreat
home to their bundled, glove selling women,
with tight upper lips and paychecks.
But they sneak back tomorrow-
green bills in hand, to exchange
for visions, suspicions
and counter-top dances.