a spastic's ballet

it's a dance, in half time. time step-step-step-half step-step-step step. i can't always see with these eyes, but i walk with pointed toes pointed north, magnetic north, tip toeing to places my eyes cannot see. rub my sweaty palms down the thighs of these faded jeans and tap my fingers -two-three-four and keep a beat to keep from losing it. -two-three-four.... repeat what you know - two-three-four... you are a girl -two-three-four... you live here -two-three-four... it is a new year. dancing june bugs in january mean my eyes are on siesta til i can blink them all away which is never. tango onto the bed and tangle into the sheets and cover my head underneath unwashed jersey seats that smell like me but who am i again? i am a girl -two-three-four. you live here -two-three-four. keep it together -two-three-four. anxious eyes try to catch every moving spot they know don't belong. winter rainbows paint my walls electric red and black and green, and when i blink into a close, i can spin onto the ground, never once hitting the floor. round and round and round and - shhhhh.