Are you ready? I don’t know; I only dance alone. (a poem)

Yes, I already posted a poem this morning; this is another one of those I want to post before I change my mind…

Random words catch my eye
then turn out to be something else altogether
I’m sure it couldn’t be considered dyslexia

but I wonder

Open the door, they say
enter a new world, they say
become someone else

…but what are you feeling?

The news is full of guns and fire
and gunfire and smoke
and bad people who get away with everything
in broad daylight

except for the bad guy who goes after the bad guys
who know an army of bad guys who have guns
and aren’t afraid to use them

but nobody worries about them

And then somebody suggests I go out for dinner
now that my miscalculation of events on the calendar
means I have a free evening
even though I have only five dollars in my pocket
and even less in the bank
and it’s going to be at least three weeks before I get paid again

…but I digress

Everybody knows that when a gun is introduced into the story
it has to be fired
only nobody wants to do anything about it once it is

‘I’d love to help you, but that’s not my department…’

How did I get from that to this?
Does one have anything to do with the other?

…but what are you feeling?

The question comes up again and again
and again I have no good answer

I’m here because I’m supposed to be
because I don’t have a good answer
and I’m hoping you might be someone who does

but maybe that’s not enough

Maybe that’s because this place is not poetry
and this conversation is not a poem
something I can put on a piece of paper
and cut and shape and mold
until it is what it feels like
until it answers the question that hasn’t been asked

until there’s no need to wonder what I’m feeling

because it’s all there—
on the paper

I don’t know if I’m ready for that
I may have spent too long dancing alone
to tango with anyone else…

(14 June 2017)