I'm going to read two more poems from Victims
of the Latest Dance Craze.
And I'm going to finish up with poems
from the Gathering of My Name.
And I always like reading this next poem because it, to me--
though I didn't know it at the time.
It was a poem that was going to age me, mark me culturally.
The poem is called "The Poetic Interpretation of the Twist."
And I didn't realize what I was getting into when
I started to write this poem.
Because after I wrote it, I thought was very clever,
you know, to talk about the twist.
And I went to a community college to do a reading.
And I was about to launch into it.
I gave the read--
gave the title.
And I was about to launch into it.
And Hart Nelson, the person who invited me up there,
stopped me.
And he said, you can't do that.
You have to explain to them what the twist was.
They don't know what you're talking about you have
to explain what the twist was.
And it was like I had just crossed some line.
I just realized I had crossed some line.
You know, how you find out you're old is not you feel old.
Someone tells you that you're old.
And that was basically it.
And I had crossed some line.
And so I had to stop then.
And there's also one thing also in the poem
that I want to talk about, which is the fact
that I didn't know before I started
writing the poem that the twist is culturally
given as the dance that separated couples on the dance
floor-- is blamed as the dance step that separated couples
on the dance floor.
Up after that point, there was ballroom dancing,
couples were dancing.
And then when the twist came, people
started dancing in their own space.
And that is blamed right on the twist in dance history.
So "The Poetic Interpretation of the Twist."
"I know what you're expecting to hear.
You think to yourself, here's a guy
who must understand what the twist was all about.
Look at the knuckles of his hands.
Look at his plain blue shirt hanging out
the back of his trousers.
The twist must have been the equivalent of the high sign
in a secret cult. I know.
I know.
But listen, I'm still confused by the miniskirt, as well as
the deep meaning of vinyl and everything.
The twist was just a children's game to us.
I know you expect there ought to be more to this.
The reason the whole world decided to uncouple.
But why should I lie to you?
Let me pull up a chair.
And in as few words as possible, recreate
my sister who is renowned for running like a giraffe.
Let me recreate my neighborhood, a dead end street
next to the railroad tracks.
Let me recreate my father who would escape
the house by bicycle and do all the grocery
shopping by himself.
Let's not forget the pool hall and the barbershop each
with their strange flavors of men.
And while we're on the subject, I must not slight the ragweed,
the true rose of the street.
All this will still not give you the twist.
Forgive me for running on like this.
Your question has set an expectation
that is impossible to meet.
The question is put on my shoulders,
a troublesome responsibility because the twist is gone.
It is the foundation of a bridge that has
made way for a housing project.
And I am sorry to admit that you have come to the wrong person.
I recall the twist the way we recall meeting a distant aunt
as a baby or the afternoon spent in homeroom
waiting for the last bell.
My head hurts.
I'm tired of remembering.
Perhaps you can refresh my memory
and tell me how they got on this topic.
As a favor to me, let's not talk anymore about old dances.
I have an entire world on the tip of my tongue."
[APPLAUSE]
Thanks.
I thank you.
My neighborhood thanks you.