dancers

Dancers


The same as it ever was

This thing that still haunts us in the cold dark night

As time starts and stops without reason



Seemingly little happens

Among the weasels and red carpet beggars

The tired dancers working for pennies



Willing weary legs to move

Not to the music but to their beating hearts

Each one dances to a new song



Tempos, one step at a time

We all ask ourselves, when will the music stop?

They say they need a cigarette break



A short time to recompose

Recombining their collective energies

Selling them to the small local store



Dollars they earned in the war
Where dreams are sold in exchange for dollars

Selling chocolate to prisoners



Writing letters to their wives

They told old stories about long lost buddies

That fell before the shrine of world war



Bleeding for democracy

Video commercial, being the just cause

They bleed for you one drop at a time

© 2007 Glen L. Lantz