some one tried to tell me some poet was here as, mechanically, i dislocate, escape and get out across the floor. i did not know it was you.
"Wait, Mister. Which way is home?
They turned the light out
and the dark is moving in the corner.
There are no sign posts in this room,
four ladies, over eighty,
in diapers every one of them.
La la la, Oh music swims back to me
and I feel the tune they played
the night they left me
in this private institution on the hill.
Imagine it. A radio playing
and every one here is crazy.
I liked it and danced in a circle.
Music pours over the sense
and in a funny way
music sees more than I.
I mean it remembers better;
remembers the first night here.
It was the strangled cold of November;
even the stars were strapped in the sky
and that moon was too bright
forking through the bars to stick me
and a singing in my head
I forgot the rest.."
anne sexton- "music swims back to me"
i like it and dance in a circle.