solo dancer

by on November 12, 2008 :: 0 comments

it’s thursday night
the band is on
they’re usually a bit
off
beat and key
that’s how good they
can be

almost falling off the deck

they’re on now,
on their way:
a fart in the corner
an attack

there’s this one woman
not unattractive

she’s got some scarf over her elbow
it’s kind of caught
because she holds her hand up
because she holds a drink

the vodka inside
is almost falling off the deck

like the music
it’s not.

the band is soft now:
a romance, a ballad
a cupid romeo shooting
himself in the thigh
it’s okay, you can say “loins”
here; fuck it, you can say
his fucking bulging cock
here,
that’s what the band is saying
the bass is walking away
come here come here
what? that cupid myth is
bullshit? then what’s it
all really about?
that business about how he
shot himself
is really that he jerked
off before he saw Persephone—
if that was the bitch’s name

the romance is over
the jive is on, the groove
the strut, the hot step
the swag, it’s saxophoned through
the psyche
the ether
that Esther, that’s it, must be
the name—hit the piano
that’s it!

she’s the solo dancer
not spilling one drop

“eat that chicken” is next.

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