TUESDAY: Toronto Intersection / Dancing Spinning Laughing


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Toronto Intersection

There is a man on
Bloor and Spadina
Who plays the fine line
On his violin.
He dances with each note
He creates,
His body a Brahmsian sound wave,
Springing even higher through his chest
As he meets your curious eye.
His skin is weathered and leathered,
Wrapped loosely around
His body of genius.
Two holes cut to reveal
Sharp, vibrant,
Artist eyes.
A blind man stops to watch
As the well eyeballed march on
With headphones concealing
The holes in their heads.


Dancing, Spinning, Laughing

I saw him
(He could not see me)
Dancing to the beat of a song
That was playing in his head
Because he is not okay.

You might think,
“Whatta happy man to dance with such freedom.”
But “such freedom” is not always a good thing.

It was too f-f-frantic!
It was too GODDAMN manic!!!
And it was only growing exponentially:
Lampshade, look out!
He’s so HAPPY he might
And Dip Bowl, don’t pick a fight
When his JOYOUS arm knows you over.
He really needs to focus on
The island he’s dancing on,
The island of “nothing matters”
Situated in the sea of “I’m not okay.”

Anyway, I know he’s not okay
I’ve never seen him look so happy.

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