Curtains drawn
There’s a rustle as they hustle in.
The music starts.
Rhythm of a heart beat pulsing,
Rhythm of the rainfall, (it’s driving)
Rhythm of the street.
Feet, feet
beat of the street.
Street, street.
Here and there are people passing.
Nobody knows who’s passing.
No exchange of glances.
Forward facing.
Walking backwards.
There’s a tide up ahead.
Divide where you’re going and where you’re coming from.
Nobody is safe here.
But we’re unafraid.
We know we’re transient in transition.
Just along for the ride.
Talking without translation.
It’s the traffic,
It’s the motion and precision
It’s the timing
Bodies rhyming in couplets
And diving headlong into each other.
They’re connecting without collision.
Fingers flexing.
Backs and arches arching.
Toes en pointe.
Chin up.
Chin down
One two three four.
Slide.
Five and six.
Flick.
Seven, eight gyrate.
Silence!
Two, three, four.
Ahhhh!
Five, six, seven, eight.
Toddler cries in the wings.
Perfection in a minor scale.
Watch me marry
the thrust and parry
of unadorned lust.
The light!
It shrinks, then grows.
Colours thrown.
Showing me new meaning.
Subject
Reaches a crescendo.
Objects
Circle round below
shoulder to shoulder in circumspection,
Uniting,
Writhing to stillness.
Synchronous synchronicity
Simplest simplicity.
And when you’re spent,
You and your co-stars take your curtain call
The audience rises to applaud
All that’s gone before
Leave taker, take a bow
It’s your moment now.
The only moment is now.
This is
The dance of life.
