Cirque Du Soleil
Cirque Du Soleil I started piano lessons in 3 rd grade. My stepfather made me practice everyday for two hours on a cardboard keyboard, Six months later, he showed up with an enormous organ in a suitcase. It was then I discovered “Misty,” by Johnny Mathis. That month I caught my piano teacher playing the violin, and fell in love with a man for the first time. He placed all his existence on the tip of his fingers, and I couldn’t breathe. I lost my balance. Insomnia set in like a guardian angel. March 16 th 1988, despite the rain, the fireworks in Iraq, the hands inside broken pockets, the hollow eyes where sleeplessness leans on, despite the Queer Nation tattoo on my back, the piano player inside me, the mute language of desire knocked on my door. There I am, lying on my bed unarmed. And there was Welder standing on the side of my bed with a boom box playing Misty, asking me to dance. I got up and stopped in fr