My counterpoint was a dancer from 1954

They shot everybody
with just the right light
to show the timeless appeal
of impossibly soft faces,
brows that leapt like jumpropes,
and bras that looked like bullets.
I liked the gloves.
I really liked the shadows.
I didn’t like the facade
of streets that hid their grit
or milkmen who looked like
they never touched a cow.
Who wants a sterile breakfast?

The best part was
when the slick scene was pierced
like a roasted sausage
and out spilled tap-dancing fools…
effervescent.

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