Tap Dancing With My Tongue

By the time I realized it
it was too late. The words
were 'out there' standing abandoned
on the dance floor, spotlight shining,
the crowd suddenly silent.

They do their best to carry on:
a quick-thinking tango with
well-timed spins that hold
the crowd for a few seconds.

Eventually, the music dies
but the curtain stays up.
Now all I can hope for
is a graceful dip and poetic bow,
followed by a fast exit
before the tomatoes start flying.

by Lori Boulard

Comments (2)

Lori, a very 'entertaining' piece... you certainly have talent. I'll save the tomatoes for the next act. Brian
Bravo! Lori - this prose poem made my weekend! ! !