AmbienceA slow amber glow,
Illuminates the small corner of
An otherwise dimly lit bar.
Empty shot glasses trickle the bar
And glimmer confidently.
We dance in a swarming neon haze,
As an old jukebox crackles out
Thick stale jazz sounds.
The souls of our feet,
Click against the dusty wooden floorboards,
As we sway and rock
In secret rhythm.
Hot damp breath presses our skin.
You move your hands to cusp the back of my neck,
And my heart misfires, and misses a few beats.
There is not a ray of light between us,
Like there is polarity between our bodies,
And somehow I think there is.
Poetry by Shawn Monahan
Read 658 times
Written on 2008-02-02 at 03:01
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