Tap Dancing

It's a pity you’re dead

Gregory Hines

the orphaned rain drops

of a departed storm

are falling from

the power lines

onto the hood

of a parked jeep

in the alley

behind my apartment

as my neighbors fuck

with the passion

of a broken metronome

leaving me conspicuously

alone

with no one here

to teach me

how to tap dance

to Tuesday night’s

tender music

Rob Schlayer is a previously unpublished poet. He currently lives in Queens, New York.