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I am the first to be put into place, not snug but a loose grip to keep me along for the ride. Dark felt, soft brim and pinched near my front, he likes to tilt me low so I can act as guide and point your attention downwards so you won’t miss a beat.
Beat; like shockwaves it travels throughout his body, simultaneously on down to his feet, on up to his shoulders, down to his fingertips, back up towards me. All in an instant, all in a beat.
And then there’s the rhythm, in alignment with that steady pulse yet still in and of itself. This is when the ride really picks up, maestro’s loafers becoming light as air, coming to life the sparkles which adorn him here and there. Until we all take flight, a shooting star whose orbit is within the performance right before your eyes.
Together as one I’m the center of this mesmerizing balance, the crown of the King of Pop.