So, this video caused quite a bit of "friendly discussion" the other day.  
It took quite a bit of time for me to deal with Whitney Houston's death.  I never realized we were sort of the same age.  And as much as I liked her, we never really connected in the same way that I connect to other artists.  Then, this old grad student acquaintance/playgroup Daddy/poetry superstar who is now one "presidential artist" and I agreed that this video was truly awesome.
 His wife and my husband  were in absolute agreement that this was the stupidest video of all time.    (Which is one of the things I love most about my life. Artists wake up in the morning wanting to have a conversation! But, the museums and institutions go out off their way to prevent us from doing that.  Because what we do is so sacred and precious and perfect that nobody can touch it or us.)  Regardless, I digress.   
So, I finally got something from Whitney.  And as we all sat in friendly, loving discourse about this stupid video, we all were able to agree that the things creative people get up to late at night, behind their curtained windows and locked doors.  Those things can be precious.  But, so often, many artists are too stingy to share.  And what this video shows is generosity.  So - I guess that's what I'm trying to say with this poem. 
        Mr. Bojangles
 (for Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown)
 
 I like people who forget
 to draw their curtains
 at night.  how I witness
 the dark affect 
 
 others.  I am the surreptitious one
 looking in the window 
 as I walk past.
 
 closed 
 curtains, locked 
 doors, late
 nights bring 
 anything.
 tucked in 
 
 and tuckered out creates
 options. 
 silliness
 and shenanigans breathe 
 a little light.
 
 or shadows. the shallow 
 kind pushed back 
 by delicate flame
 struggling to command
 a yellow radiance
 flickers and yammers 
 
 on and on about something 
 strange and invisible.  love, passion,
 support building 
 two auras. make a new 
 
 creature named Our 
 Marriage. it  is unsure 
 where it began, took shape
 and if the energy will ever end
 it.  but suckles the faded 
 hint of vanilla and jasmine. perhaps 
 cinnamon. the shadows cornered.
 
 by flame, 
 all manner of insanity can occur. 
 in these shuttered seconds after sunset
 a husband dances; 
 his wife whistles; sings 
 some old corny song;  
 laughter makes love and 
 then they have the nerve 
 to let the whole world see.
 i will always love you.
 
 
 
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