Dancing with myself

now I am old
I will shine my shoes
until the leather has
a vexatious gleam

From the caldera
I can see the stars
turning against the heavy blue
of premature evening

Elbow gravelled on my chin
as if time were closer here
fingers hooking a crookèd nape
all extraneous distractions
careless and forsworn

Too tight, the laces
left undone, aiglets
trailing like reckless moons
as I (almost) fall
we slowly spin