Dancing with the Oblivious
Deborah Rose


You're stepping on my toes,
you bastard.

We took the classes,
You know the moves,
You've got the rhythm,
And even the grooves--

Yet you're spinning 
me round
to the wrong beat
to the wrong tango
with the wrong feet--

and you're tossing me
in mid-tango air.
I land smack on my ass
while you keep on waltzing like Fred Astaire.

This is a slow song,
not a fast.
You're snapping those fingers
without even a grasp.

You're pressing too close
and hogging the lead.
With your tap shoes on mine,
Iım ready to bleed.

Get back in sync,
hum to this tone,
and if you can't follow,
you'll be dancing alone.

---

Occam's Razor, Issue 14 Contents