#8

Mystery Old Benefactor Arts Center

How about I start dropping bombs around
your head as a wreath?
Is it alright if we start there?
What is the next movement?
Can you read the white footprints painted
on the arts center floor?

Show me, folklore man, a rhythm
from a time unusual.
Get a little danger in my step
let me one two a little off kilter.
But, in time, ah,
always in time along.
With your friends, your cousin,
his friend who is learning.
The main band, Ragweed Tempo,
will return I'm sure.
These men fit my learning curve.
Your rough hands are
a finish line.
But, they feel like the starting gun
just as often.
Dizzy like anyone else, I am hoping,
after a first whirl. And then,
around again.
A dance as a funeral for
your unknown friend.
You throw me to the left
and I stomp right. Where
do I fit in the slide?
I will fit myself
--an awkwardly carved piece--
into this in due time.

How about if we finish with another set
of bombs and smiles?
Can you answer me quick enough?
Take my knowing glances and challenges
as a respect. I am not a bitch,
a hound dog, or partner.
I am equal queen of eventual
possibilities.
So shut your damn mouth.