• Wearing red dancing shoes of life
    that go until the stop-watch clicks off
    and nothing is left
    but two bloody stumbles
    of ankles and toes.
    Kind of makes you realize one thing:
    I should get out more
    ( and do something. )

    Better that then be that ugly plastic ballerina,
    that does fouetté en tournant --
    spinning in a jewelry box with a painted smile.