"A Wonderfully Awful Idea"

said the Grinch.

"Go let in the dragon!"

A sneeze.
I've taken to wearing my scarf indoors.
I'm at a freeze.
So this is bird flu.

If I had a dragon,
he'd warm my feet in bed at night.

I went to a dance for MRDD adults
on Friday night. I loved it actually.
I loved the unabashed enthusiasm--
the free hugs and laughter.

One person, Tim, could really move.
I was watching his feet on the dance floor
with great pleasure.
"Oh, here goes Tim." I heard.
People rolled their eyes.
I watched closer.
"Does Tim take lessons?"
His feet were moving in fascinating rythmic patterns.
People shrugged and rolled their eyes again.

When Tim came over to our table,
I asked him.
I could barely understand him because of a stutter,
but I believe he said his mother and father
own a dance studio.
"You look fantastic! You've really got the moves."

An hour later, Tim asked my partner
if he could dance with me.
"That's up to her."
"Will you ask her?"
"No--you have to ask yourself."

He never asked & I was both relieved and sad.
I'm sure he could have out-danced me.

Yes, honestly,
some of the MRDD clients were painful to look at.
But I think their differences
are simply more pronounced because
MRDD adults are not more visible in our communities.
[And if they are, we are taught as
children not to look, not to "stare."]

So I loved the dance--I loved escaping the blase
literary performance that tries to frame my life.