The Fall

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.