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He stomps across the stage 
like a rabid dog – 
eyes wide, 
sweat pouring, 
spit flinging, 
screaming, jumping, dancing, 
talking in some language 
that nobody can understand. 
He mesmerizes the crowd – 
almost on cue they seem to jump, 
to shout, 
to wave their hands in the air 
like starving children calling out for food. 
They pull green paper bills – 
cash – out of their pockets, 
and fling them toward the stage. 
Like a lonely widow 
they desire his touch – 
a grab of the hand, 
a slap on the forehead. 
Come and heal us
they cry, 
come and set us free tonight.
This poem © Kevin Walker. Published August 2012.
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