Since when do doctors break smooth bones

juice pulsing hearts to quietude

trim and toss a floppy valve

just because it's old and tired? Who's not?

Here, they say in ethered haze,

meet your new dance partner. He's

Fred Astaire on steroids

Gene Kelly in hypoallergenic jacket

silken Gregory Hines, always by your side . . .

the elegant, the virile Mister Titanium

whose metallic beat (click click, click click)

will show you just which way is which.

At home, though, Mister Titanium counts,

not dances (click click, click click).

At night when others fade away

in my ear (click click, click click)

he ticks off sorrows, shame, regrets.

Souped-up timer (click click, click click)

can't stop counting

seconds left.