Post-Candelabra

Hell, no!
Had a dream,
Post-Liberace
Bio pic on HBO.

Lucky me, all the cute boys
And girls are in mandatory physiotherapy,
A kind of high-school dance at the
Imaginary annex, in Vegas.
(They somehow fly us in,
From New England.)

We mix and mill around
After repairs to somehow shattered,
Mummy-bandaged legs and feet.
No medics are visible. Only silvery
Escalators, gold columns and
Champagne-filled flutes.

Magenta, velvet-cushioned study halls where
Everyone hobbles on cruel crutches,
And will heal (if they study
Hard enough).

(Matt D (as Scott T) is never
In study or class, must've disappeared
Into Principal Lee's suite,
On a pass.)

I wear little, reach for Rob Lowe,
His greasy mask face framed
In his wig-like, center-parted Monkee
Cut. Narrow eyes glazed, stare blank,
He wraps and clutches my naked
Arm like a vine, grips my spine
As we go tango, furiously.

In a dreamy
Shedding of wraps,
We choose partners.
We lose partners.
Some of us rotate more
Easily than others.
Some never yield and
Are suspended like swings or
Tinsel from each other's limbs.
(Liberace so loved Christmas
That his tree was taller
Than the Eiffel Tower.)

Our combinations are not 
Real tango steps but kin to
Rock waves and shimmies,
Or blinks of daring, blaring
Tribal gyrations ...
No talking, please.
No one speaks here.
We only permit
Piano and singing.

I feel my heart crave
And crave, and
It is not slutty.

My mother, too dourly,
(Like Debbie Reynolds,
In her rubber Mother Liberace nose,
Tapping her foot at the "sidelines")
And her mother, double dourly, think
They know my heart. Whispering or
Mute, these dames disapprove,
Mourn the loss of what they
Thought was my destiny.

(They tsk and whisper,
Say Liberace's a
Terrible ham.) (Not
(In fact present, I
Still wear them like
Itchy winter coats that
Can never be unbuttoned,
Even in the blistering,
Frying Vegas heat.)

Lee Liberace, sly shaman and sham,
(Of the flying fingers, base backstabbing,
Redundant diamond rings, capricious facelifts) is our host,
but ever invisible, gossamer
As a chorus girl's ghost.