Dance Party of One

Subway dervish

dancing for his own soul

fueled by a tiny smoke

and his own valiant mind.

Commuters ignore him,

another part of city scenery

to avoid.

Chinese residents hustle by,

a few financial men

see him,

contemplate this merger

of joy and madness.

He spins and jives,

a one-man setback

old and broken of mind.

The body spins and dances

on and on,

keeping a flame alive

that was long ago forgotten.

Let it flicker still somewhere

while we go about our busy days.

Flushing, Queens

Dazzle-bright signs

In alien characters

Light the way

For fleets of buses

Burping diesel

On the teeming sidewalks

Storefronts

Paved over Quaker farmland

Odd monuments linger

For a sacred past

The streets break way

For brick buildings

And green lawns,

Rows of houses

That remember simpler times

Sidle past

The looping language

Of churches

Where once were family homes

We take it all in,

Souls sizzling like all-night barbecue.