Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Association


A desert house - to the west: the horizon
                           to the east: the mountains
                           and I am dancing in the desert
                           and I am nude
                           and I make figures in the sand w/ my feet
                           as I dance.
           
            I am photographed.
            I am photographed.
                    photographed.
                    photographed.
                    photographed.

            I am held on the patio, by Robert.
            I am nude.
            I am holding our baby son, I am being held.

Our son is leaving for college.
            He is assured and we are all already missing.
            He drives, we wave.

I read, Robert plays the video game.
Robert & I dance in our living room.
             We are visible through our glass walls.
             A caravan of cop cars surround the house
             and the cops draw their guns
             and the captain draws his bullhorn:

                        “The two men dancing must stop their dancing!”

             We dance
             We dance
             They shoot
             We dance
             Their bullets fly and their bullets turn to flowers
             And the flowers fall at our feet.
             We dance
             We dance
             My spirit flies, it flies out and it watches.

Our son returns & Robert collapses into his arms
Our son returns & holds Robert
                          & comforts Robert
                          & my spirit watches.

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