Ballerina

I saw grace, knew grace, and experienced grace

Through glasses and distant smoky glances

Such a way with movement, and a poignant non-gaze

An audience of bewildered amazement

That such a simple movement could hold such power

But I, as the death knell rings in my ears a constant happy beat

Telling me how many times I will exhale the average and inhale the exquisite

Knew the farce and laughed my gotcha laugh

Turned and told the kid staring at the washing of innocence

That even the  best of them, especially in their own eyes

Can’t see the fucking pole in their soul, and they are all like that.

 

 

 

 

 

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