Bowie's Ballerina on Acid
“You look like a ballerina
on acid,”
my loving husband told me
this morning
as we folded a heap
of laundry on the bed.
“Ben is at a sleepover!
I want to dance
to David Bowie!
Is that a problem?”
I can’t help it,
I love to dance.
I told Mark:
“I don’t understand
the suggestion.
I’m not a ballerina
and I’ve never tried
acid.”
“Thank God, Jennifer.
That’s the last thing
you need.
You are high enough
on life as it is.”
“Under the moonlight,
the serious moonlight.”
“Let’s sway.”
What a wonderful
snow day!
My cheap gold necklace
from Temu
is twisted and
knotted loosely
around my neck.
It sparkles
suggestively
when I prance around.
"Let's Dance."
It is nine in the morning
and seven inches of snow
lull the cold soil
back to sleep.
Not me.
I’m dancing
to David Bowie.
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