Dancing, she dances, // is the absurd, the absurd and more,
Like clouds your polished // mind changes shape forevermore.
People shift names // and faces as days unfold,
When I ask who they were, // they turn away cold,
How impossible to guess! // What do they ask anymore?

For a moment she // waves feminism's bright flag,
Embracing women she claims as her own,
Pushing away those who // work like men drag,
Sneering at communists with a tone.
Her father once called her a girl // of the street,
Skipping her classes, // with mature men to meet,
Your face—so revolting!
How impossible to guess!
Tell me now, why —
Must you dance in crowds, // like clouds in the sky,
Claiming you're pure // while the masses are stained?

History, chat logs—distorted mirrors, // you say,
Cut off the childish past, // what have you grown?
"It's gone," you declare, // "let the past fade away,"
Then spin tales of your sad history—alone.
What do you want? // How impossible to guess!
What should memory retain?

"Can't leave the men," you say, // "so many men,"
"Not a prostitute," you claim, // "just for the cash."
You want to be your words, // not others' vision,
Your shadow breeds distrust, // makes hopes crash.
You feel for women, // then reach for their purse,
Mock their foolishness, // sit with them—even worse!
You want men talking about feminism—
To hear what sound? // How impossible to guess!
It's all in books you won't read — // how profound!
What do you seek? // How impossible to guess!

Dancing is you, absurdly you,
Your mind lost shape, // ground down to rounded dots,
Needing outside points to form lines anew,
Unable to stand alone // with what you've got.
When I ask your real name, // I recall instead.
Cloud-stories, pure yet dirty, // filling my head.

How impossible to trust!
How impossible to guess!