Out come words - tiny spurts - with a spirit, tumbling,
sliding into the tall Spring air; rippling the Rubicon
of normal people, clumsy keys
hammering at a door that’s locked
- will we ever hear and feel a passion deep inside?
Shall we play? Shall we cry? Shall we arise and sing aloud
words that line-dance into laughter:
clear your throat and jump the escalator.
Andrew’s words are happy ever after:
ever after the dancing laughter after.