he raged at them softly
the crowd just inhaled her
sucked her right down to their boots
as she sang
then she stood motionless
looking at touts.
this panorama of ants, here
these are just some of her fans, here
yes, making them cheer more
with her every breath
all the young dudes
reaching to touch any part of this temple
they try to snatch
a breast rub
or a stroke
then the young women
who think that they are her
she'd understand all their angst
that they know.
then the all-timers
that saw her grow up
and out of experiment into establishment
year after year, her work growing finer
losing the twenties, the thirties are memories
into her forties and fifties, still soaring...
look at her, knowing.
embracing her wisdom
and turning the wheel
of fortune she made
the lovers she called on
the kids that she helped
the star that she named
the players she hurt
and cell phones are flashing
and trousers are twitching
the girls are loud sobbing
this woman just carries it all off in style.
the voice is more full now
the curves they are gentler
the clothing more subtle.
the love is sincere.
and her authenticity calls her the one.
that's what she had that the others...
just didn't.
she'll pose for their pictures
then they'll go home happy
and wink at the press
so they know that she knows.
she still writes it all out
and they're all still ravenous
changing of seasons
and decades of drama.
we wonder who's next and
who's touched with this something
and we only know
that she knew.
she just knew.
