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Tic, tac, I’m waiting to hear
Ti, ta, my hands shake with the beat
A relapse of this self-produced Parkinson.
------I finally hear something beautiful
My toes curl up and down and dance to the music.
I float away and see my shoes from above
My hair dances to the beat and the room grows smaller
As I fly away into space
I see the same things over and over and over and over
Little, burning, british styled cottages
What is it I’m waiting to see?
I dive into a cloud in search of what I know I will not find
My back aches as I reach for that I don’t know what;
I think I’m getting closer.
Over over here the air seems to be sweater
That, I think, is a sign I’m near.
It’s grimy, I’m flying on my tiptoes now. Tiptoes.
A ghost of sugar approaches me, with the sun as a head
I follow its finger and its mysterious direction and swim away
There! I’ve seen it! My heart takes the melody over
It is me who commands the tune! Pom-pom, pom-pom…..
As I grasp it I wait and wait and linger and remain
For the explosion.
I don’t know what to expect, its wrapping so beautiful!
From here, I Jazz my way down and fall back into this painful black shoes
But all is better now;
I Samba the day with a smile smudged on my features
I know there is Salsa in this world!
Then I walk down the street, moving my body
The Polkaing fingers won’t stop
They’ve been accelerated:
Tra la la la.
Copyright © Pamela Calero