Since when do doctors break smooth bones
juice pulsing hearts to quietude
trim and toss a floppy valve
just because it’s old and tired? Who’s not?
Here, they say in ethered haze,
meet your new dance partner. He’s
Fred Astaire on steroids
Gene Kelly in hypoallergenic jacket
silken Gregory Hines, always by your side . . .
the elegant, the virile Mister Titanium
whose metallic beat (click click, click click)
will show you just which way is which.
At home, though, Mister Titanium counts,
not dances (click click, click click).
At night when others fade away
in my ear (click click, click click)
he ticks off sorrows, shame, regrets.
Souped-up timer (click click, click click)
can’t stop counting