Chaos also Dances

Angels may dance on the head of a pin
but no one  has ever told you that their partners
called Chaos are dressed in drab coats
disheveled and dirty with drink in hand, barely
able to stand as they try to keep up with the music.
They fling obscenities to the wind, raucous and rank.

Who invited them to this dance?

Did they come of their own volition or did they
receive in the mail  a nagging invitation,
with promise of delicious Hor D’oeuvres served on
a golden plate to soothe a palate knowing only
seeming hate.

There is only so much room on this floor.
Only so much of  this crowd that this world
can allow.
This pushing, this jostling, as elbows fly.

So, I shall take my drink and withdraw to
the balcony, stepping into the
cool night air.
And toast the moon and the stars, wishing I was
anywhere but here.