Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Walnut Street Prayer Dance

They madly danced in the streets. Three pairs of soaked arms sluggishly flailed, while a car with a propped door let out a song with no particular words or rhythm, just a song. Eyelids slid down over their white balls while wetting a portion of their lashes, as salty sweat dripped into the unperturbed portals of the zombie-like street-men.The wrinkles bulging over one another bounced slowly with their bodies, with their night. Can you see the static dynamism?

Another joins the fray and the street is calm outside the circle of the four.  One svelte shoulder did slump, one back did bend, one foot did collide with one ankle. Contained is lazy movement in humidity, lazy animals in urban-suburbia, lazy steps taken in odd fashion. Lazy, lazy, lazy pigeons flapping dirt covered wings. But  while the sweat is dripping and their tongues are flapping time and the world abandon each other. Don't ask "How long were they in the street?" "How long were we in the street?" "How long did the shoulder go limp before it popped up?" nor "How long it took for a buttocks to jump inward and the car music to switch songs, switch to a new paradigm of lazy movements?" No one knows.

No flute player went into the street to lure we four into the sidewalk, no animal charmer made our heads bob up and down, nor wiggle east to west, but the air bursts pushed our limbs, forced our brows down. The night made us start and continue, but the morning made us retire. 

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