Last Dance At the Late Show

One lady waits for her long dead mother to visit, another, earnestly informs her husband that she is far too young to marry him. One guy stumbles up to a care-worker, his tongue drooling rakishly. He wants her badly but his pick-up lines are clogged between gums and dentures. A green leaf hangs from a dying tree. “Put that away Mr. Fanshaw”! They come and go through holes in their memories. These, the old and put away, in their careless and slipshod way, remind us that autumnal brains wither of living stems. As I near the last dance I wonder how green my sap will be when it dangles over the edge of the unknown.