I shake my head and move deeper into the crush of bodies as the baseline pounds and the lights strobe hypnotically. A classic medley is running and the power of it makes me feel young, wild, and free. I twist through the crowd and size up the scene. As I hunt, Relax morphs slowly into West End Girls, seeming to somehow linger in between for minutes on end. I spot a likely one dancing alone. Hips shift sinuously and shoulders bob. The neck undulates and the eyes are half-lidded. And the hair is perfect. (Aaoooooo!) Drunk, high, or just into the music? Does it matter? I sidle up and match the sway. They used to call me the Karma Chameleon and I may be older but yeah, baby, I’ve got it. My newest desire senses me and our eyes meet. Just like that we lock in to the rhythm and we move closer, synchronized swimmers in a pool of flesh. The music coheres from something by Dead or Alive into...The Cult...? (Ah yes, it’s lung removal, lung removal machine.) We make it work, binary stars swirling around a mutual center of gravity. As I consider my next move, the DJ shouts something incomprehensible and the music shifts to Conga by Miami Sound Machine. WTAF? Caught off guard, my rhythm falters for a moment and my partner gives a little head shake. Then the inevitable conga line crashes between us like a tsunami. Our eyes meet one final time and I get a fond little wave before we are torn apart again. Perhaps it's just as well. My knees ache and it's time for some Oxy.
For TMDFQ (Will you post the second half? /msg me!)