Monday, December 7, 2015

poem of the day 12.07.15


three times a week
they are dancing
in the handball cage at rappaport park
this lovely asian couple
with smiles on their faces
swing dancing
ballroom dancing
they are shimming in ways
that i’m not accustomed too
they are not thinking about war in those moments
like i often am
about how quickly we’ve gone off the rails
the fear on tv disguised as tough talk
no, he is spinning her
dipping her, twirling her, lifting her toward the sun
and just holding her in the sky
for a few lingering seconds
smiling up as she smiles down
there is no murder or terrorism in the faces of the dancers
no fear or deceit or subjugation
just fluid motion
this couple, they are an oasis to my morning
the bright spot when i’m rushing toward work 
with all of the others who are tired and stressed
paranoid of the subway and wide open spaces
i see them and i think
i’m no warrior
but maybe i’d fight something to save this
for every last one us here
i’m no dancing man
but maybe i could learn
get in that handball cage with the two of them
learn the two step
or the tango
let the gray morning ride its way
toward the afternoon
forget about this world wide suicide
find the peace inside of me that’s been missing
for far too goddamned long
as we hunker down with beautiful intent
to do the hand jive
or the twist.


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