NOW THAT I CAN
DANCE
Instead of
watching
a woman
repeatedly
dropping her
glasses
on the floor
of the subway
and two people
sitting near
her
reaching to
help
when she drops
her glasses
and each time
they bump
heads
and say sorry
and laugh
about it.
Instead of
Major Dad
why not
just watch
these
commercials.
Your love
was going to
take us higher
into space
and get us
into “Spanish”
and get rowdy
after the fact
when it was
silent
after the rest
of
the vitamins
were chewed.
Our mechanism
for removing
our drawers
is the only
thing going
so far as
tomorrow is
concerned
with baited
breath
someone
has to know
where they think
they
can rent a van
and cop a feel.
Your dream
is necessarily
someone else’s
idea
of good fun
and
moreover
useful
in several
phrases
of the jaw
and some of
the time before
we get to the
station
during which
much is revealed
about a
troubadour
who’d been
standing
in the
background
the whole time
pulling the
woman’s glasses
with a string.
Jibade-Khalil Huffman is the author of two books of poems, 19 Names For Our Band Fence, 2008) and James Brown is Dead (Future Plan and Program, 2011). His art and writing projects, spanning photography, video, performance and poetry, have been exhibited and performed at MoMA/PS1, Mt. Tremper Arts and Southern Exposure, among others. He was recently a Workspace Artist-in-Residence with the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council in New York. Educated at Bard College and Brown University, he lives and works in Los Angeles where he is an MFA candidate in studio art at the University of Southern California.
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