La Gitana (the gypsy)

Like a crimson silk thread

freed from a gypsygirl's dress,

the music dances.

The beat of fingertips

across the ebony board

like her bare feet on the rough wood floor.

The gypsygirl toys with the metronome,

teasing it to follow,

pulling it til it breaks

or at least gives in.

She dances with the music,

through the music,

across the notes and

scratched auburn wood of the fiddle

(whose notes dance likewise through the speakers

into the pale white room).

Pure walls now covered with

crimson silk thread and

bare feet;

across the room,

a man taps his feet in time with the gypsygirl.

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