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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