i was was watching the shapes
dancing on the back of my eyelids
again,
and thinking about the shapes
all these people
dancing at my dinner party
they smile, their mouths drop open and eyes squint closed
but all they see in that moment is the bright red joy of their egos.
i lay on the bench where the homeless have slept
and i smell what it means to have never been kept.
i watch these shapes, who used to dance in my eyes,
as they swallow up tears
for their will to survive.