this kind of chaos

the manic ant creatures
are dancing to bowie
even though they don't know it.

the clouds are dancing too,
but faster, on parade.
i know they're going further
than i have permission to ride.

the possibility of dancing
strikes me as funny, until
bowie hits my hips
and outside, in the sunshine
is the only place in the world.
and dancing, with abandon
can answer many questions.

it is just this kind of chaos
that draws the endorphins,
a relief full of irregular beats
and right now i'm a puppet to life,
and bowie, and dancing.