JeanPaul Jenack

One Last Dance

In the sixties
it was a twisted cage
gilt and flower-
powered by black light
and shattering
movieola-like strobes
captured on black & white film
with color etched in acid

In the seventies
it was the platform
a mutating wild-west
horse-driven scaffold
and erected to
the thump of the hustle
and the lure of the rope

In the eighties
it was the catwalk
a feral snow-white runway
for model citizens
flying along
the razor's edge
surrounded by the toys
of dwarves of litigation

In the nineties
it was the jewel-
and pine-box parade
and lastly the hook
for hung-up shoes
hermetically interred
in toe-tapping regret
with boiled blood

Music! Speed these
terpsichordian warriors
on to a better place
who thrice in one lifetime
have danced upon
the head of a pin
with only a g-string between
themselves and the gods

In the event . . .

a) the devaluation
of foreign currencies
adversely affects
the profitability of exports
driving your company
into the ground
and you with it

b) your bald spot spreads
across the desert
of your head
like a sandstorm
wiping out
even the memory
of hair

c) your self-esteem
drops faster than the Dow
on a black day
plummeting like a limp bird
in a tailspin
that even Viagra
can't prevent

in the event . . .
it is time to take stock
and realize
there are lots
of other people out there
just like you
and they're screwed too

caught between
the mortar of yesterday
and the pestle
of tomorrow
the down-tick
and the up-tick
with the clock still running

misery loves companies
the short sell
and the long faces
that follow
the sole proprietor
staring downsizing
in the eye

is a state of mind
and it is time
to give yourself
the business
to cut the bull
and grin and bear it

take a hike
wear a hat
import an idea
export your angst
lift up your chin
and set down
your baggage

the snake
can't swallow his tail
without getting bitten
in the ass
now and then

and he's been
swallowing that tail