the dancing fool of Court St.
dance.
he likes to
dance
in the
streets.
alone
or with a
friend.
he shimmies
and shakes.
not for money
or pleasure.
he dances
for the voices
that command
him
to go on.
a wild thunder
of voices
pushing him
along
and as he lays
down
in bed at
night
his legs
keep going.
dancing
through the
world
of dreams.
a poem for the ages.
wait for it.
wait for it
and it will
come.
the advice
we've been
looking
for throughout
the ages:
"it is
alright
for a man
to screw
his wife
or girlfriend
but not his
horse
dog or
cat."
angels and demons.
he talks
to the angels
and the demons
that drive
him.
the angels
who take him
to work
to support his
wife
and child.
the demons
who force him
to drink
and sleep
around.
he talks
to the angels
less and less
now.
he follows the
demons
who take
control
slowly
and more
frequently.
they will
surely
lead him
to the
slaughterhouse.
leaving
whatever
remains of him
behind.
he follows
them
every day
into the bars
and onto the
hooker's
street
corners.
he will
eventually
lose it all
and become a
shell
of a man
far from the
Truth.
Keith Wesley Combs
