for such chaos could not be choreographed
but under the ruse of beauty,
There must be a master.
I'm late leaving work.
Classic frustration.
Textbook stress.
Millions of things stopping me
from my goal. Will I get coached?
I wasn't supposed to be here anyways.
I slip, trip, and fall
and teach old people new things
and rush and rush and rush
but get no where
walking under ladders
and around puddles
seeing lightning and familiar faces
My mind knows this is a farce
But humors the stagehands
with a traveling act
amazing how many people
can fit on this stage
that wasn't here the last time I turned around
But now I move with a purpose
to be first against the railing
separating spectators and performers
in this street show.
The lights dim
we all hush
fidget
become still
then
Too many things to look at once.
I must ignore some
focus on other
There are people in a box
Judge/Jury/Executioner/Accused
All crying out for help
People I know
reaching for my arms
Puritans, Indians, clowns
I hate clowns
All running and turning
around without a purpose
An old friend looks around desperately
he screams
"I'M GOING TO COMMIT SUICIDE! SEE?!"
and lifts a page tied
around his neck with a string
An old lady
with running makeup
blond hair piled high
and falling in tired pieces
sits slumped at a school desk crying,
"I'M SCARED! I'M ALONE!
Another wanders through the crowd
White robe falling open
dazed and confused
as a still drugged rape victim
Boys dressed in black
stand still and staring among
the constant movement
strobe lights flash
colors fade in and out
they are unmoving
Until they all disappear
and then start marching
flipping
cartwheeling
walking on their hands
in a great moving grid
chimes and bells simultaneously
speeding up
and slowing down
to tinkle into the rapid crescendo
of an end.
Everything
pirouettes into the air
hanging on an easy breath
and pauses in a prolonged moment
of perfectly posed stillness
As I leave the arena
clumsily tripping over air
and stairs and climbing
awkwardly placed fences and rails
just to make my way to the parking lot
where a slew of kids are playing naked
in a cage
while their parents wave for a bus.
After all, I didn't want to stay this late anyways...
Why was I in such a hurry?
A young Asian boy smiles
the soft and shy flirty smile
that says,
"I've noticed you,
now you've noticed me
we'll probably never speak
but I'll think of you a lot..."
Have I seen him before?
Mayhaps he was next to the mute
with a similarly silly grin and
nothing but grunts
as I tumbled down after the show
onto his shoes
An old boss calls me
interupting this moment between strangers.
WHY?
It's been years since we spoke
Am i thinking of her?
or she of me?
I still know you're all hanging there by threads
finished in a floating swan
downward facing dog
with MC Escher's stairs all tucked under your arms
like brief cases
disguised as an elegantly suspended thoughts
ready to resume with the cut of the string
but the chaos that will ensue
will never again be the same as it was
for those two minutes on stage
which was probably three hours of REM
