One hundred sixty- first street
Perspired dust and noise
Tenements blocked breezes
From listless girls and boys

Children slouched upon the stoops
But Prima, Jorge's sister
Practiced pirouetting
To her singing transistor.

(refrain)
Arabesque on chests of drawers
Curtsey to the chairs
Twirl along the musty hall
Trip the broken stairs.

Prima danced at dawn
When the trucks sprayed the streets
She danced through the day
And flexed the muscles on her feet.

She heard music in her neighbors' shouts
And danced to the vibrations
Late at night, through open panes
Of Television stations.

Prima danced before mama
Without any flaws
She performed for brother Jorge
To his rousing applause.

She demonstrated practiced steps
In her worn, pink dancing shoe
To her teacher and stunned classmates
At P.S. #82.

The principal bravoed
At Prima's poised perfection
And sent her to Madame Lola
For formal dance direction.

Madame Lola in leotards
Announced that it was vital
That Prima now prepare herself
For the city-wide recital.

For a month of days and sleepless nights
The little girl rehearsed
At the city competition
Prima came in FIRST.

First on the Eastern Seaboard
Then first in all the nation.
Acquiring the glow and pomp
Of an international reputation.

Prima danced before the Secretary-
General of the United Nations.
From dictators, dukes and dowagers
She accepted long ovations.

Whenever PRIMA's dance would end
The audience would rise
Bravo! PRIMA Encore! PRIMA!
Hands would wave before her eyes.

But once she spied a CRITIC
Who made it very plain
That he regarded Prima's dancing
With disapproval and disdain.

When the audience arose to hail
Prima for her feat
The CRITIC sneered and then adhered
To his twenty-first row seat.

From then, whenever Prima danced
The grim, lean man was there
And so she lost her confidence
Her spirit and her flair.

Her steps began to falter
When she saw the CRITIC frown
Prima stopped her practicing
And was frightened of reknown.

When before the kings of Europe
She was invited to audition.
She sighed and pined and then declined
And spurned all recognition.

Desperate, Madame Lola
Summoned a distinguished pediatrician
To diagnose the cause of Prima's flaws
And the loss of her brilliant ambition.

But not a single doctor
In England, Spain or France
Could specify the malady
That kept Prima from the dance.

Prima, grim and silent
Face wan and taut with fear
Saw only the twenty-first row seat
And the CRITIC's steady sneer.

"Flabby bone and muscle tone"
With brows erect and serious
The doctors prescribed a mineral cure
At the salt baths of Tiberius.

Then Prima rose to speak her mind
"I'll seek one cure, there is no other
I'll go back to El Barrio
To Jorge and my mother."

One hundred sixty-first street
Still perspired dust and noise
Trucks still sprayed the streets for
The wilting girls and boys.

Prima charged the broken stairs
To the beat of Jorge's transistor
"Jorge, mom, I'm home!. I'm home!.
It's your ballerina sister!"

"Sit down, mama and Jorge
I will tell you all
About my years of triumph
And my days of sudden fall."

At last the dancer stated how
With trembling and with fear
She danced before the CRITIC
Who reacted with a sneer.

Jorge flushed with anger
His fingers clenched in rage
"Prima Ballerina!
Return to the ballet stage.!"

"Let the CRITIC boo you
Let the CRITIC frown
Resume your practicing at once!
Regain your great reknown!"

"It matters not if others voice
Approval or rejection.
YOU must practice 'till you reach
YOUR standard of perfection."

Prima listened carefully
(An attentive younger sister)
And suddenly with thumping heart
Flicked on the transistor.

She arabesqued on chests of drawers
Curtsied to the chairs
Twirled along the musty hall
Tripped the broken stairs.

She danced to new successes
Heeding Jorge's admonition
Perfecting every pirouette
Refining each position.

And when the CRITIC reappeared
Glowering in his chair
Prima performed a TOUR de FORCE
Ne'er dared anywhere!

"Bravo, PRIMA encore, PRIMA
The most difficult of feats!"
Jorge, ma Madame Lola
Rose cheering from their seats.

Madame Prima Ballerina
Now teaches girls and boys
On one hundred sixty first street
To make rhythms out of noise.

Arabesque on chests of drawers
Curtsy to the chairs
Twirl along the musty hall
Trip the broken stairs.

THE END