The Dance

He flails the limb

He cranes the head

And people look away

She talks and smiles

And acts a role

But knows not what to say

He totters, weaves,

Bumps off walls

The sober drunk with his useless cane

This is the dance

The unwilling do

The dance of nerve disease

Rise up and walk

And take your mat

Go and sin no more

Maybe the year is ‘44

Maybe the President

Is FDR

He did not mean to die

You see

But only to shower that day

I am the statue

Head of gold, breast of bronze

Feet of clay

I know what I was thinking

I know

What I meant to say

This is the woman

Who in the part cannot feel

and so on the whole will never conceive

It must be karma

She did something wrong

Now she has to pay

And the beast was torn

From the innocent child

And cast to the herd of pigs

Rise and go

And tell no one

Your faith has made you whole

Oh that is what I meant to say

This is the dance

The spastic jig

The waltz of nerve disease