The Hand Dance
The hand dance
As I walk down these chasms,
canyons of glass and concrete,
I think of you and I
waiting for one of these
rushing monstrosities ferrying
people through this city.
I think of the time when,
our palms pressed against our palms,
our fingers playing, tracing our love on our hands,
a homeless man asked if it was a ritual we did,
or if our love guided us in this.
"We're in love," I replied,
and from the twinkle in your eye,
I knew that you agreed.
Now I reflect on what you cost me,
pleasures missed,
women I could've twisted around me,
a poet with the face of a star
who eyed me like a treat,
who entranced me with conversation,
and who would've stolen me
if I'd been willing,
two women, just eighteen,
who wanted me to tutor them in bliss,
who wanted sweaty play with me,
but that was it - they would've been
just as glad to leave my bed as to get into it.
I think of women old and ugly,
who would've shared their wealth with me,
because they found this body pretty.
I think of the ones in between,
who would've stayed with me forever,
who wanted to be my children's mothers,
who I told I had a lover.
I reflect on the times I stayed,
when leaving would have been easy,
when I could've cheated without you knowing.
Instead I rushed home to you
and imagined that home would be with you forever,
imagined that for all time,
you would be my goldest treasure.
I moved to this new place,
because I couldn't stand the ghosts of us
holding, kissing, gripping
each other as we walked,
caught in windows that waited
and flashed us at my lonely eyes.
My tears tried to wash away these images,
and I couldn't stand that strangers
driving by could see this teary-eyed shell
and laugh like hell at my strangling misery.
Now these bodies rushing by don't see
my tears or misery,
Here I can push it down until something seizes me
and I see the ghosts of who we used to be
pressing palms and smiling
our hands dancing playfully.
Even if I knew this misery awaited,
that I would be a deflated mess,
I would trade every woman I passed by
to have you only every night,
I would trade all the pleasures these women could give,
just to have my hands dance with yours again.
As I walk down these chasms,
canyons of glass and concrete,
I think of you and I
waiting for one of these
rushing monstrosities ferrying
people through this city.
I think of the time when,
our palms pressed against our palms,
our fingers playing, tracing our love on our hands,
a homeless man asked if it was a ritual we did,
or if our love guided us in this.
"We're in love," I replied,
and from the twinkle in your eye,
I knew that you agreed.
Now I reflect on what you cost me,
pleasures missed,
women I could've twisted around me,
a poet with the face of a star
who eyed me like a treat,
who entranced me with conversation,
and who would've stolen me
if I'd been willing,
two women, just eighteen,
who wanted me to tutor them in bliss,
who wanted sweaty play with me,
but that was it - they would've been
just as glad to leave my bed as to get into it.
I think of women old and ugly,
who would've shared their wealth with me,
because they found this body pretty.
I think of the ones in between,
who would've stayed with me forever,
who wanted to be my children's mothers,
who I told I had a lover.
I reflect on the times I stayed,
when leaving would have been easy,
when I could've cheated without you knowing.
Instead I rushed home to you
and imagined that home would be with you forever,
imagined that for all time,
you would be my goldest treasure.
I moved to this new place,
because I couldn't stand the ghosts of us
holding, kissing, gripping
each other as we walked,
caught in windows that waited
and flashed us at my lonely eyes.
My tears tried to wash away these images,
and I couldn't stand that strangers
driving by could see this teary-eyed shell
and laugh like hell at my strangling misery.
Now these bodies rushing by don't see
my tears or misery,
Here I can push it down until something seizes me
and I see the ghosts of who we used to be
pressing palms and smiling
our hands dancing playfully.
Even if I knew this misery awaited,
that I would be a deflated mess,
I would trade every woman I passed by
to have you only every night,
I would trade all the pleasures these women could give,
just to have my hands dance with yours again.