Eyeless, I'm eyeless
and I can't dance.
I believe this thing is serious.
Take it away make it your own.
I have to dance
think of scars and my father's name
on his plain white gravestone.
It is of no importance these chairs,
that picture of the cliff.
"
This is the time to speak," you tell me.
"
We have to repeat what we think is true."
No talk, no talk your voice is not commanding.
Truth is nothing when even breathing is an art.
I say dance
Dance of the still warm body
of the beauty'we almost had in our shaking hands.
No talk. I've got to dance.
A damp cloth will take the traces away.
But how can I lose your words?
Dance with me, as tha bandages come off.
Dance with me, I'll show you my father's eyes.
Dance with me, I'll show you where beauty's buried.
Dance with me, I'll show you the stained cloth,
but I won't talk.
10:24 PM on 10/28/97, Originally 1986