T. R. HUMMER | For Dancers Only

For Dancers Only

The scavengers of twilight turn up with almost nothing—
A lipstick tube, a broken saxophone reed—
And, for their trouble, the Captain breaks their thumbs.
What it takes to earn a living: get it right or not at all.
Get it from schoolboys on the street, Sign of the Horse,
Plastic bag of powder ten bucks, five bucks, one.
Supply and demand. Location. Profit margin.
Or are you just another dreamer, like your mother's cousin
Who thought he could sing? He ended up,
Where was it again? In an alley? At the bottom of the ocean?
Learn the moves. Don't step on any toes.
Have you got the beat? Give me your hand. I'll lead. 

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