Look Out. Old Man Dancing

A little Mick Jagger.
A little Joe Cocker.
I never learned to dance

A little David Byrne.
A little Lou Reed cool (I wish.)
A bit of Bowie in Young Americans.
I never learned to dance
but I paid attention.

They all leaked in. And now leak out
Old and insistent. Moving.
Lost. Found.

The world does not matter.
The demons are forced to follow my lead,
line dancing Jagger, smiling

despite themselves.
I never learned to dance.
I never stopped.
Except when I forgot.

About this poem.

The Stones station on Pandora. Cooking supper. Dancing alone. Dancing, no doubt badly, recalling my dancing heros, some of which show up in the poem. Dancing badly, but joyfully, wondering why I stopped. Remembering how it fights depression. Builds joy. Better than drugs some people say.

Rolling Stones and Bowie all night I think. Look out. Old man dancing.

Tom

PS: The photograph is from a rehersal of the “Dancing in the Streets” video Jagger and Bowie made together. You can see it here.