Sometimes the mouse has to dance

With hoary crusted feet on the coldest concrete
doing a beauty treatment to scrape crack heels
while a major key warms up for the debutante,

a ball where waltzes fade to country two-steps.

A wild ride pulls and shatters stiff  faux candelabra
and we sway sway without tuxedos into a dream
of photo strip bad joke thank-yous that fold on
a cheap paper inviting a ribald door into drama.

Went out last night to take a little round
I met little Sadie and I blowed her down.

It was gingham, gingham all the way down
and sometimes the mouse just has to