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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-03-22 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] | I know of circus acts that claim to tapdance on the breeze jump from cirrus to cummulus and hitchikethe jetstream but none compare to the elegent stride as I watch you on the the blue sidewalk you create step after simple step so high above the crowd your hand steadying me soft, firm within the right pocket of my coat You are my flight and floating and any impression of concrete far below is an illusion Next to you safe with you I am the naive high wire artist learning a new circus The sky is canvas the dirt below a net You dressed in scant glowing sequins are carried on swooping drafts of applause and regular adoration I watch and try to mimic your grace (fail) until I close my eyes let the you I have memorized take over my clumsy limbs and while I cannot become you (ease and beauty) I (at least) begin to believe in a me that just might exist (though never featured on marquees) But I need no ring of bright lightbulbs no bold print just your hand in my pocket as you continue to teach me how to walk the sky
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