there’s a TV against a wall
a sound box perching up on top
when I look around I see
the dregs of recent days
curling up in each stray corner
my table is invisible beneath paper
and the futon wears those clothes of mine
that are waiting for an ironing
when the cleaner comes
on Friday in a week or so
sometimes at night
I make the music cry out loud
so I can dance alone
in the spaces left upon the carpet beige
under a faded light from the weak-watt globes
that hardly shine enough
to show me where my feet should go
so I don’t stumble or maybe fall
even in my small domain there’s danger
of a stumble or a fall
if I’m careless or unwary
when the music cries
and I’m dancing
all alone
© Frank Prem, 2000
One of my tables is invisible beneath paper and there’s a chair and some bedroom floor wearing my clothes. Nice poem.
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Thanks Peggy. Bit of a blast from the past here, but it was just aS Dangerous as described, I recall.
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I don’t know what is worse…dancing by yourself or the clothes and papers piled around! Now that I think about it…I like to dance no matter what and I see a pile of clothes that I threw on a chair. I meant to move them to another closet about three days ago. Maybe I should write a poem.
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Better get into it Pat – before they fold themselves up…
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Hey! I am so busy 1) on the computer, 2) watching the news, 3) reading the newspaper, 4) writing a text message. Too busy doing nothing to do something.
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My mistake Pat. No Way, have you got time. Back to bed for sleeps, I reckon. Away you go, now …
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I am so glad that you recognized the problem. I am considering doing a bit of work today. Unless something better comes along. Like going to a book store or going to look at a guitar that I want. Or rather need.
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mmmm…. something better …. mmmm
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Tahnk you.
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