Three Serious Adults
by Abigail Taylor
Last night, three serious adults
danced to pop songs in my living room.
Down half a bottle of Jameson,
throats tingly, senses awakened,
we agreed on three truths among us:
existence on Earth is much too fleeting,
our spirits are much too free and
our bodies that hold them much too curious.
And on the back porch, we announced these truths
to the January air and the nocturnals inhabiting,
like Old Dickey, in his Strength of Fields plea,
we each sighed, “Lord, let me shake with purpose.”
And what began shortly thereafter
in the soft carpeted listening room,
as shy shoulder sways and toe taps,
evolved rapidly into a mad dancing trinity;
a twirling, twisting triangle; an outright pissed promenade!
Both united and unique in our movements,
we each performed in this rite for an audience of merely
one another, and three insects who’d heard the ruckus,
accepting the most ridiculous twitch and rattle
as a work of divine art, from the Lord herself.
Then back out to the cold for us, once our work was done,
to say our goodnights, like three serious adults.
© Abigail Taylor 2017.