She laced my gloves to my fists

and showed me how to dance

with the rhythm of the soul

and judged not my handsome

rare smile, for it could not

subdue the right hand of the press-

man who knew it could be the end of

the game for me

as I tried to be the better

of the two for the while

that I could do it to him.

It was not about to be

the run of the mill,

it was the start of the raid

upon Life’s rich pageant upon

which I depended for sombre

pleasant rides to the fair

of light fantastic.

I could be then

but I could not be there

and so it was that I

could be hairy and spiteful

to the dancer on the Marie Celeste

of life’s conditioned palace

of random out-brained

use for me.


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