i don’t have the wherewithal to weather another storm

an aerosol parasol, no protection from inclement precipitous downfall

soaked to the bone, so far from home, alone and attempting escape

she told me to dance

and on worn soles, with a torn soul, i let the music take me away

shaky limbs still have rhythm, congruous yet just out of phase, finding the moments between the beats, the soft silence of down tempo, harmony and destiny in hand

chilled under the too light jacket, head steaming in the cold of the night

i was no ballerina but i tried, my tutu a hoodie and shorts

massachusetts will remember this face