The Dance

    Never touching, they danced
    In an isolation gleaned
    From others they had seen --
    Arms and legs
    Flailing, flaring into an
    effervescent devotion.
    Dranni with the flaxen

    Hair sits on her porch
    Braiding, brooding all
    She has seen and felt
    From the night before
    Which weighs her down.
    Should she be ashamed?   
    Why should anyone judge?

    And she thought that no
    One would, or if they did
    It would be in a language no
    One would understand.  I
    Was in the woods back then,
    Covered in shadow, hiking
    Rhythmically in my notion
   
    Of how it came to be and
    Would end, given its
    Trajectory.  Democracy had
    Failed.  Adams was right to
    Fear the aristocracy which
    When formalized became
    A bureaucracy sponsored

    By judges who used words
    Only they could understand.
    Ted Kaczynski thought he
    Understood and wrote his
    Letters which no one could
    Dance to or feel his madness       
    Despite his careful phraseology.

    They may be closing in for all I
    Know – more come each week
    Seeking a darkness of their own --
    Tents pulled tight each night – Dogs
    Heard to whimper, coyotes howl. 
    Eventually there is only the sound of
    Heavy breathing and the smell of sweat.