ALL WE REALLY WANT TO DO

is make it
back home.
It could be
bleak there, too,
but you're alone,
gratefully
alone.
Perhaps,
there are fewer dreams
resting on a razor's
bubble, perhaps
they're holding on
for dear life
which is no longer
so dear,
but all of the other signposts
telling you
of how insignificant
you are
are out
there
littering
the eyes
of others;
there's only death
outside that door
& you can dance
with yourself,
inside
the way
it always
was
as you let
the music take hold,
and give yourself
a twirl--
for a few hours
anyway.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015