The Loss of Pretension Conveyed via Mass Pretension: In the Form of Verse

For a control freak:
Losing control is a tragedy,
Giving up control is a miracle –
This was my revelation last Thursday.

Under the blacklight – or
Under neon buzzin’,
I guess it all started
With My Perfect Cousin.

As Sharkey did that thing –
The nervous little quiver –
I spotted Cindy, incidentally:
Thus: the opening of arms from Shiva.

As I elevated my gender studies
I moved about in cautious improv
Choreography: “I will be hers”.

As I walked like an Egyptian to her
With Why Can’t I Touch It?
She (un?)consciously drifted:
And proceeded to have a fit.

The flailing limbs weren’t my
Issue. Benign aggression rendered
As somewhat endearing – ’twas the
Beat – the lack of the strong third.

Dum-dat-dat; dum-dat-dat;
Dum-dat-dat; dum-dat-dat.
WhatwouldAustenthink: Aghast –

As The Big Country ushered in
A twang – it ushered in my
Hypocrisy. In that moment
I became abstraction. My

God, I was given an
Ultimatum – either I
Gave up self-control –
Or I gave up my bliss. I-

I gave up control and realized
That was my bliss itself
Not just a facility.

I became the equivalent of
The song – indeed, I morphed
Into it. We became one entity.
Stars. Colours. Shapes. Lifted

To a level attainable only
Once. The room, the song,
And I bled into each other.
Cynthia’s blue eyes.

Losing control is dangerous.
When one simply succumbs
To this abstraction though –
One finally connects.

And this is love – for
What is love if it is
Not a relinquishment.
Dancing became movement.

The descent into powerlessness
Lit us up. Academic attraction
Provided the framework for love
To flood in. Floods.

The experience was
Overwhelming – it lasted
Five minutes. We
Never left reality –

We entered into
Heightened reality.
Music and movement
Transcend entirely.

This is love; this is life.
Random chance reinvents
Itself as fate.
This is life: Darling,

This is love.


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