Gary, Dancing (Poetry)

Out on the street and in daylight
few girls would give a second glance
for he wasn’t handsome — no six-foot hunk
of masculine appeal
not even a trendy dresser
just regulation Levis shrunk to fit
his leanness like informal teenage camouflage
a modest blending with the crowd

But on club nights he took on a different guise
as young pretender to a kingdom lit
for disco and the ritual of the dance

He claimed the floor in strobe light
cut through the white-faced bobbing crowd
to strut his stuff — his repertoire of moves
that held the girls in thrall
their boyfriends taking notes on cool
they cheered him on — marvelled — envied all
the adulation floating free — that heady mix
of stabbing light and urgent beat

Gary danced — performed his so-slick ceremony
his followers all witness to his art
he reigned supreme for weeks. Maybe a year ...

Time passes. We’re in twilight
Disco done to death years ago
How many from that old crowd can recall
his choreography?
Who can shut their eyes and see him
invoking the flashy God of Dance?
His glory days gone beyond belief — that crown lost
the ear grown deaf and feet move slow