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dizzy, so dizzy, colors blending and fading,
fall into the wall and trip onto the floor-
the ceiling below them, the ground by their side.
mine eyes- do they deceive me?
is that a smile that i see?
too disoriented, too confused
to do much more than laugh hysterically.
his head near her hip,
her arm shielding her eyes-
what is this? say the onlookers.
such a spectacle, such a sight.
rolling onto her side, she attempts to kneel
but vertigo pushes her back down again.
no matter. it's pleasant here.
a natural silence, permeated only by
unsuccessfully stifled laughs.
he stares up at the tiles,
she gazes at the wall.
with a shout- with a sigh-
the decision prevails.
fighting off migraines and dizzy spells, they stand
still crash into walls, stumble over their own feet.
the passers-by, they whisper
behind their backs, behind their hands.
such far-fetched ideas!
they're oblivious to the cause of confusion,
the delerium that presided
when she stopped spinning.
they don't know, they shouldn't speak-
they know so much, yet not enough.
nothing is as it seems-
the illogical force is gravity.
light-headed and dazed, they make their way
through Clair de Lune's final strain;
past the stairs, the stares, the spin
into stability, reality
and loss of will through conformity.