Even as the neon lights lit up the street with seductive winks
of blue promising colours I slid past the tonne of a beef burger
doorman, muscles tensed in conversation with his power.

I had no identity, no number to call to confirm
my foray into the ****** of sincity doom
but my adrenaline turbo was greater
than all the indulgences laid out by the church.

Soon the show started and it was neon
seven course  greasy meals of delicious
red rosette ******* and bulging cabbage
bums that were only found in naughty books,
so against my catholic upbringing
of saints in halos, sinners in chains-
all collecting at the ankles.

My eyes were young and  untrained
to the slow naked lights and movement
so I had to stare
through the shadowed light and dancers
throbbing to the music of  savage drums
gyrating to  the  pulp of night.

That's how I mixed up
poetry and lechery
in one single escape from innocence.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 5 days ago