The Location of Happiness

Bare feet stomp on dirt 

gettin’ dirty, like it dirty

black soled and walnut shouldered

chestnut hair and morena skin 

and it is beautiful

and filthy?

We dance because

we were made to:

sweat and stank

gyrate and moan

honey jive and butterfly

We move as anthropologists of our own motion 

Columbus’s of our nations

Tolstoy’s of our stories

Buddha’s of our hearts

In another timeline,

Buddha escaped full lotus

traded silence for the Bodhi trees music

In another plane,

Tolstoy paused during Anna Karenina

to shake his sorrowful ass

In another dimension,

Columbus gave up the search of silk and spice

just to dance the tarantella on his Italian soil