Then

There was a waltz that I wove with every car that I drove
A mad sad little slide that dove
Into every battered clove of stability,
every slathered grove filled with mildew beads.
I was in the tapping of that nervous finger
I was in the vocal trappings of that worthless singer
The dance has an inflection of insatiable instability
Yet their feet punch the ground
And your wrists kick the air
Crunch up your crown
And lift it from your hair
this ammicable arriviste
Is my appicable, cylical mind feast.