.
lights spin backwards in the awakening
of midnight with all the youthful bodies
moving in reverse to it's rhythm
one moves naught because of his wish
to step forward against the flow and
is thus fixed
stationary
a too-late-to-adjust suspension, the view
from his seat for the upcoming show
is his only companion
he is most eager to be drawn into the
perimeter of the stage with his bouquet
of wrinkled dollar bills
stripping down to a personal submission,
he presents to her his graying embers
and with a grin~
she takes the green from the blush,
exchanging it for a golden touch
he smiles,
with a wink, she spins away with
a quick stomp of her heel
he smiles,
he returns to his seat to sip down
a drink that fizzled out years
before she was born—
he grins...
"a dance for the humble"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved
the observations of an old man
in a dance bar, just passing the
time with no real need for
anyone's company...
