Dark Dance

It is late
and the dance floor still writhes,
fueled by release,
fueled by the deep bass

that has hounded your heart
since darkfall, fueled
by alcohol,
lapped up by the crowd

like water in the desert.
Too like life, the beat goes on,
heavy, fast, no change of pace,
feeding in itself,

without relief,
no times to stop
and cling to each other
in memory and promise, and hope.

About this poem

I went to a wedding in NJ this weekend. The reception was pretty amazing, including an absolutely amazing DJ and his set up. We danced and danced. For hours. It wasn’t till later that I realized that the last half or so of the dance, there were no slow songs to speak of, and I missed that.

But I wasn’t sure why. After all, I had a great time all the way to the end. This poem was part of my thinking, trying to understand why.

Life, unrelenting, without moments to pause and savor, is exciting and often fun, but lacks something important for us. You’d think someone as introspective as me would have seen that lesson out of the gate. But sometimes, I am slow.

The picture came from the reception. I have lots of in focus ones, but somehow, this captured the poem better.

Tom