In This Way Is Disco A Form Of Blues

Originally posted 10/5/2012.

Sylvester on the radio sings,


Sylvester is dead. For real.
God only knows how real he now feels.

I am not dead
but I will be sooner rather
than later, 

for real. Getting comfortable with that
is my number one job these days;
I wish I was mighty ready 
to be alone in the night with it. 

When people danced to this
back in Old School

they often danced hand in hand
with Mighty Real Death;

it is in this way
that disco
is a form of blues.

Wish I was ready to dance naked and alone
in the kitchen RIGHT NOW,
but I am neither mighty enough
nor real enough yet,
so back to bed I go to write about realness,
like a damn fool — 

because this is not
how one should die,

flat on a fat ass,
on a bed,
banging a laptop.


This will have to do
until the day when
I finally find myself
dancing into a mirror,

pointing at the sad sack
I’m dancing with, the dance partner
I’ve had all my life, the one 
pointing back at me from the mirror, 
each of us laughing this song
out of our terrified mouths 

as loudly as we can:


and not stopping
until we fall.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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