They call her Tango

that girl with naked eyes

who’s feet kick up the stardust

left behind from the lights

of the night before

The way she moves

you want to slither down her velvet skin

and nestle yourself in the black ribbons

that she wraps up

in her unisex beanie

She became woman

in juvenile hall

but became man

in rehabilitation;

she learned to walk the road map of her heart

to ignore the metaphors of her mind

the ones that the blind spun

on their gilded spindles

The same threads

i try to balance on

yet keep slipping

to find myself lost

in the same streets

and alleyways

Tango dance those months of her birth