Ice Dancing with Dolores

with a line from Gil Scott-Heron

Clack and rumble, screech of steel
on steel, freight train at five a.m. shakes
the stone foundation where I live, chewing
from the ground up, spitting
out my best, most tiresome friend, sleep —
soul companion through long days
of waking to sleep, as if you could sleep
through your own funeral, as if you could watch
the revolution on TV.

In sweet dreamy sleep, I was ice dancing
with Dolores, fearless, beautiful dancer
I once kissed passionately on New Year’s Eve,
surprised how she joined in, catching me
in this wonderful game
of chicken, delicious kiss, until suddenly
at the edge of some self-created oblivion,
my bluff called, my fear of what? —
I slammed the brakes. smiled
and said Happy New Year.

And there she was this morning, skating
with me across a frozen lake, bright moon
shadowing our great synchronized leaps
and swoops. At the slow decline
of a long swan-like glide, we held each other
and ourselves an endless moment balanced
at the still point of grace
and suddenly she was gone.
I was alone in a strange, frozen place.
A train rumbled, a PA system
crackled, a station-master voice
from the twilight at waking called out —
You’re somewhere between Love
                                     and Kansas City,
                as if that’s all I needed to know.