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Dance with the Ghost of Isadora Duncan
by Dave Matthews
I walk where flowers in wild ravines grow
And tears of poetry cling to winter sky,
Where the blue-haired boy with tattoo eyes,
One red shoe, and a bare foot
Plays "Take the A Train" on bells,
As if to harmonize eternity
Through all the riot of night
And on to the diamond dew of dawn.
I dance with the ghost of Isadora Duncan.
Our scarves are on fire intertwined in the fog,
My eyeballs backward and steel the gaze,
Like renegade dragons at Chinatown Gate,
The silence of my jet lagged brain
Shattered only by a roll of the dice,
And whimpers of dot.com legends who blew the wad
When they fell for their own con.
The only way out is to melt down all together,
Pull the covers over your head, close your eyes,
And imagine it all went away.
If only I could believe that it would.