Do the Shogun Moon
At The Jumping Jackaroni
they do a variant
of the Electric Slide. Nobody
touches ground. I invent
my own rhythm sticks
& fling my wet cloth of despair.
Here, you're either a renegade or
an amnesiac under acid flashback strobe.
If you die on the dance floor,
they bury you with your taps on.
Heel to toe, our bunions
are our ingrown medals.
I still have trouble putting
one foot in front of the other,
my two-step is as clumsy
as bumper cars. By the time,
the barmaid with the stitched lip
announces last call, I'll be spinning
without a partner. I'll be lighter
than fizz, foam, or bubble.
By 5 a.m., I'll be heavier than death.
The outside world is an almost-corpse
that twitches with an old frog's heart.
It only had two left feet.
Sometimes the lead foot
stuck in its drooling mouth.
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Author's Note
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I really like this, Kyla. I like the contrast of spinning lighter than foam to an outside world that "is an almost-corpse
that twitches with an old frog's heart." *
Thank you, Kathy. Really appreciate the read and comments.
I like it, too. Nearly turned me into a whirling dervish here in the library. *
Kyle, it's great to get back to reading your work. *
Thank you, John and Mathew!
"I'll be heavier than death" is an incredible line.*
Thank you, Amanda!
Hard to know the dancer from the dance sometimes.
Yes, it is. Thank you, Gary.
Good piece, Kyle.
Thank you, Sam!