Footloose
I don’t want your story Don’t tell me your story
I can’t take another story, she said
In a pause he recalled his history
seeing it as a stranger might
Whose stories can you take, he asked?
She thought, sipped her drink
then named three women poets
Their poems keep a distance from their lives
she said you can connect with a poem
without meeting its whole damn family
I have only so much anguish
Beginnings can be hard to escape, he said
they come for us and will not leave
until they’re through with us
Even a wandering walk, a meander
leads back on itself in our bent universe
It isn’t you walking
And still you gotta put your feet down somewhere
she finished for him
You’ve got feet? he exclaimed
She grinned, kicking him under the table
and listened to his story
The Dog Star 
4 Responses to “Footloose”
The best
Lovely. Natural, fluid and real affection. Hard to find these days.
Lovely and fluid with real affection for love and language.
Thanks, Craig!