Somehow, despite my protests
I keep being asked
How can I quiver and shiver if it doesn't happen
Naturally
Not even by chance
What if my moving to the motion
That this music invites
Is the dance that opens the doors
To the end of the universe party
And I am personae non gratae
The bouncers are Hitler and Mao
While there, upon the dance floor
Satan and Leona Helmsley move
To their own dark beat
Next to them, in their own scene
Joan Crawford and Idi Amin
Showing the world and underworld alike
They know how, and they do the last waltz
Hands together
Feet moving swiftly and synchronized
As if they've been melded together forever
So serene
They glide, they move
I can't dance
Even if forced, even by circumstance
I am unable to force it to happen
Perhaps I need to close my eyes
As if my willful ignorance
Has ever been a good disguise
No I cannot dance
What a hateful task
And I demand it be made illegal
The events, characters and firms depicted in the poetry/poem are entirely ficticious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual firms, is purely coincidental or meant in a satirical manner.
