I dance, festively, the band blows
in a parade of children and carts
full of loads and hitchhikers, the long legs
of majorettes above everything else

Faces hide behind honks
that spew burp up views of bile
and fire into everyone's ears
forcing the bellies to continue

dancing along the places where
life is raging or has stopped
We dance a big elastic and
watch it stretch and hurt

when it snaps back to the news
and on set anniversaries we dance
on the spot, to reflect on the bad things
we shouldn't have done

and to know again what we want:
to commemorate the commemoration –
to think once more, think anew, think
differently, and to dance the way we think

we should