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Dance of Life
Absorbed in some inner choreography
I slowly walk the streets
where images merge as in a dream
An autumn wind pipes oboes and bassoons
people dash down avenues like leaves
blown off the trees in gusts and whirls
They dance down sidewalks, linger by lamp posts
cling to windowsills of cottages
shiver in doorways, damp shelters from the rain
Fragrances of buns from bakeries
leak out into the cooling air
diners sit around in restaurants
Waiters hurry in with bowls of steaming soup
watercolor palettes of rystafel saucers,
hurry out with towers of empty dishes
Clattering collections on palms
all forearms and elbows, arms outstretched in haste
backing through swinging kitchen doors
In a flash of kinship I become all of them
multiplied and many-hued, their accents, clothing
ill-fitting dentures, eyeglasses, sore throats
Thoughts of furtive hands in darkened cinemas
income tax assessments, laundry lists, birthday cards
on dusty mantelpieces, letters from friends overseas
They are all mine! Rendered asunder by the wind blowing
into every corner of me, I burst apart into a myriad
flying fragments, russet, ochre, black, brown and yellow
I am Norwegian, Chinese, a Welshman on a green mountain
a tribal dancer in Africa, I am children prancing barefooted
in wooden huts, white eyes in dark faces, all smiles and teeth
I am a free-falling parachutist, floating down
between the trees, branches almost naked now, their fall leaves
rushing in the wind to distant resting places
I am one man in six billion windswept bodies
a swirl of flying leaves raked into a heap
the dance of life shivering across my every open pore
© Johnmichael Simon
2006
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