Last Dance At The Païchérou Poem by michael spangenberg

On the banks of the Aude river
just a stone's throw from the Bastide,
15 minutes from the Citadel and the
Canal du Midi, the Païchérou enjoys
preserved natural setting amongst mature trees
during low season have the 'Comptoir du Païch'
with traditional dishes made from locally-sourced
produce, in summer, try the popular grill on wood-fuelled
BBQ outside on Mesopotamia-landscape terraces
65+ dancers welcome with preferential tariffs.

Aging French superheros erratically dancing the Sunday
away at the Païchérou
as if there's no US presidential election
as if global warming's not looming on next generations
as if Aleppo's children hospitals are not burning
after 65 years wear & tear solid marriages
they still love each other like crazy, old puppies
Spider-Man swinging with wild-at-heart cat woman
the wife's two feet taller than the maverick!
but do not worry, he's better in forgiving (like Jesus)
reconciliation at the rhythm of the cha cha cha cha
to be or not to be (Shakespeare) , it's quite philosophical
do be do be do (Sinatra) - that's more like it baby
I'm the US spectator, reminiscences of my mum
she got nursing-home Rheumatoid arthritis
mum can't even stand strait, forget about sing & dance
yellow clown in red wheelchair, tango-ing with middle finger up
his rich mistress's serving him Cafe au lait, un-cold
where's climate change when disabled people need it
Circus women with obese twin breasts
Mayflower and Lady Liberty spiraling in carrousel
the outlandish dancer's are the pride and joy
of the grandchildren, they're not ashamed to dance along
miles-wide smiling tenor's singing fake falsetto songs
purple lipsticked-cup's eying at me, young chick
flirting her Sundays away in outlandish dancing floors
parrot-eyed woman dignified, Tiroler yodels
widow's still wearing outdated marriage rings
old but not cold, there's volcanic hot energy in Decay
fat man in black's screwing Marilyn Monroe
hundred years after - kiss kiss, clap clap, omgh
Sweet sixty with shamelessly red shoes
letting her fake hair hang down, she's bald
the cancerous stench of cheap perfume
pretty princess playing Rolling-stone black cats
let's do the twist again, twist & shout
At Païchérou, obscenity levels are conservatively kept
at maximum decency
short alpha male chasing after blasé head nurses
mesmerizing music, the Sunday afternoon's delirious
2013, Joanie and I, she wasn't pregnant then
close dancing in Vancouver, how
HOW were we supposed to know this would be our
last dance together? Trajectory of death & destruction
still ahead of the to be lost forever friends
German harmonica's howling like Dante's Inferno
de profundis clamavi, intense melancholy
the life saving surgery of pure poetry
tempus fugit (time flies)
sure baby: vita brevis, ars longa
plain English for
tomorrow is another day
boy, it's time to run.