And she plays Tetrys with her three moving fingers,
one, two, three
one, two, three
A strange dance of index digits
Up and down like a heartbeat monitor
Uneven, but it must fit
It must fit in
to our ideal rhythm
To stay alive, staying alive
A song by the Bee Gees
The shape of a steady heart
Alive, the ideal
Thumping in our chests to electric pulses
– shocks! –
and sharp impulses
Seeing the face of the one you love best
and collapsing,
Electric failure of mind to compute
the longing of the soul,
The sole yearning of the body is to survive,
against that BEAT,
the music of stirrings in sleep.
The Germans did not invent techno music
This is the premier beat
From childbirth, against your mother’s chest,
the development of handedness
(left and right, the wings of your shoulder blades)
Listen to your mother’s breaths and beats with a sigh,
Feel the reassurance,
Emotion and devotion,
Perfect organic harmony
and lack of anomie.