I Dance Sometimes

Something shifted the day we counted shadows

Folks in red dresses faded to pink

And then to gray

And the sun sunk slowly through the day.

I dance sometimes, 

some days, not always

In a hedonistic haze.

We are a fog of mistakes

Moving slowly to the dance 

of the lights of cigarettes

and burned up regrets.

River beds shifted the day we counted

shadows,

and the moon regreesed to blue

and then to grey

when the train slunk slowly on its way.

I dance sometimes.