Tuesday Night Dance

One ole gent offered this
Terpsichorean Truism for a Tuesday:

“In the ubiquitous City ballroom
we all dance backwards
to someone’s favorite tune.”

The civilized do not actually fear even the most barbarous of opposing philosophies, but rather those murderers among us who have no philosophy.   (The hordes of yore and the armies of today have no common battle ground, and hence all terror seems compounded.)


And yet another “ole sorehead” (but I must be totally
forthcoming with you and note that he handed me a
card that read, “I Am Not A Sorehead,” but nonetheless,
he said), “Life is an illness without a cause.”


The immortals never think to talk about it.


Even while laying in his own bed,
in his own house by the shore,
this one salty captain would hear
the sound of the waves and think,
“Ah, we make good time this night.”


In reconsidering the “ole sorehead with the card,”
I am inclined to contribute to the seas of info
for secondary swimmers by offering this expansion:
Life is like an effect without a cause.