Something that whipped in the wind brought me out in it,
crackling across as a swirl in the night.
Stepping and rattling the tambourine rhythm in
arguments fostered in melodious spite.
Here we are dancing an old tarantella
upping the stakes in each course or turn.
The constant accelerate twirling and gaiting
until we are much to invested to adjourn.
The tune that accompanies us in our effort
accelerandos to meet our estate.
Constantly raising the tensed dance hysteria
and we are now breathless and tired of debate.
Wouldn’t a tango be more aptly suited?
Or maybe a waltz or a foxtrot to try?
The steps, they are beautiful, motions in tandem.
No one is upstaged and nothing goes awry.
Here as I ponder the dance steps of politics,
tightening my tambourine skin here and there.
Adding a jingle to increase the rattle
in this tarantella, poetic warfare.