Mr. Saturday Dance

Poetry by Harris Wheless

Mr. Saturday Dance

Like I say
As it turns out

                                                                  I'll bet!

And the cold! Oh, the cold! As it had hitherto frozen his balls off every winter,
He took it in hand to take complete possession over his own body.

He pondered shining shoes, other jobs. But he wanted to remain a clown.

Guest list:
Her!!!!
Kissing, kissing, descending, like laundry down a chute.
Barbara Kruger.

Decade-long dinner parties,
Entrees, the bell for the next course, cushions,
Cocktail parties, the church to brunch rush, private train compartments,
Broadway.

Old films — look!
Buffet tables, evening gowns,
Fitzgerald, expats, Paris.

Distant revolutions.

Cross yourself, swerve off the road
When the radio gets ugly.

Seascape over the mantle.
The clergymen make house calls.

Walt Disney as adjective
For a summer lawn without mosquitos.
Price of admission.

Shall we, darling?
“There are many knees yearning to be bent.”