The man, like some great big cat of a lion
purred and undulated, shook his arms
flailed his arms
and squeezed shut his eyes
tears streaming down his face
sweat gathering up in his underarms and neck and forehead.
Occasionally, his shirt would flap down,
revealing course and dark hair on his chest
in contrast to his bright red (and rather barren) head.
At this moment, he kneels on the stage and yells,
his voice quavering and he looks and sounds like a dog on his last few hours. Steam seems to be rising up from him.
And I roll my eyes. The lady behind him,
equally possessed,
wails on a piano as the song finishes
and the man looks fresh from an exorcism.
We (my father and I), shuffle out of the auditorium with the rest.
"That was ridiculous," I say.
"That was beautiful," my father says. |
Submission Name: The Singer 
