AS rich as mashed potatoes with too much butter
That's good the first bite, then cloys and sticks in the craw
So when I talk, and discourse and mutter,
You first listen, then nod, then up and withdraw.
I feel as loud as a red shirt among the black,
A mysterious dress code everyone seems to know:
In vain would I ask for some leeway, some slack,
I'll just have to prune my clutter, not let the kudzu grow.
As milling ants from an upturned hill,
Happy couples waltz in swirling confusion,
Where circles, squares and lines can fill
The hall with joyous collusion.
I like a dance the caller walks us through,
Teaching the steps we help each other do.
—Larry Gates, 11 March, 2011