Teach Us How To Dance

Teach Us How To Dance
© Surazeus
2025 07 30

If I should fall in love with Clara Bow 
and dance with spirit of the Flapper Girl, 
I might relive sweet passion of the heart 
that seeks to flee from maze of Babylon 
and dance in shining hills of Hollywood 
where Dionysus wears black pinstripe suit. 

Wild red hair of the fairy we adore 
entangles hearts of worshippers with faith 
so spritely passion of unfettered love 
may triumph over spirit-chaining rules, 
till she is trapped as Sibyl in the cage 
who prophesies fall of America. 

Each time America falls in disgrace 
survivors gather on the river shore 
to build new town based on equality 
which quickly goes awry when clever thieves, 
wearing slick suits and scarlet power ties, 
seize control of banks in sly psychic coups. 

When happy people of America 
elect Clara Bow as our President, 
she appoints her old father Dionysus 
to run the Department of Happiness, 
commissioned to deport the arrogant 
who impose bitter religious beliefs. 

Stone walls that mark lush Connemara hills 
protect wild fairies Titania employs 
to wake the frightened people in cold halls 
from nightmare in the cave of writhing fire, 
then lead them into fields of sparkling mist 
to dance and sing among the graves of gods. 

My direct male line from Adam to me 
migrates from Nigeria, across Arabia, 
through Iran, along India, to China, 
north to Lake Baikal in Mongolia, 
then west through Scythia to Italia, 
over two hundred thousand years of hope. 

I race my horse across the windy plain, 
chasing the sun over four thousand years 
from Lake Baikal to Lake Geneva, west 
to climb crystal mountains of singing crows 
where I rule the world as fierce Jupiter 
with thunderbolt I forge from rock of faith. 

After I die, place my spell-chanting skull 
in the library of Westminster Abbey 
along with Orpheus, Merlin, and Hamlet, 
so we can talk about how human tribes 
build the Tower of Babel with their blood 
so Clara Bow can teach us how to dance.