Oh, how we danced,
with our chests opened wide to the world
and life pouring in in great gaping bursts.
How we danced,
always knowing that we were right,
that the primal drums of our generation
played a rhythm that "they"
could not hear as we calculated
the sqaure roots of society's
misconceptions and derived the
quadrilaterals that would lead us
to salvation.
And we knew we would never
become "them".

Three rooms, one bed
the windows covered with the symbols
we despised to keep out "their" eyes.
We sat on the floor, our minds melding
into mobius strips as we planned strategies
to liberate humanity from its enslavement
to itself. And we laughed, even
when we fucked
because we knew "they"
never laughed
and "they" never fucked
preferring instead to "have sex"
or "consummate" or possibly even
to "copulate" and we thought,
on rare occasion, maybe,
"they" screwed,
but we knew "they" never fucked.
So we fucked and laughed and planned
our chests open wide to the world
and life pouring in
in great gaping bursts.

I don't remember when it began.
I think maybe it was when you
gave in to "their" demands
and wrapped both our fingers
in traditon,
but it was insidious, creeeping in
like fungus,
eating away at the laughter,
growing over your mind
and trapping your thoughts
in little plastic containers
that "they" carried in suit pockets
and placed in desk drawers each morning,
'till finally your chest closed to life.

Then one night as you grimaced
and grunted your way to orgasm
while I imagined mobius strips
on the ceiling, I realized that we
had become "them"
and that my chest, too,
was closing.

I remember, I cried that night,
great racking sobs that started
somewhere deep inside
and forced their way out of me
in forgotten rhythm with the silent drums
that lay scattered in dusty corners
waiting for a beat that your music
would never again know.

But I didn't cry the next day
when I hocked that required piece
of gold tradition
and bought a bus ticket
west...

I didn't cry....
I danced.....

phantom...(c) WLA 12-02-2000