mmmmcclxxii

Zippy Zen

were he teased into the dark
ness of the corner sofa that
was but a shadow, this scene
would be far different. but
the blips of the flashes that

lit the remaining dancers as
they slithered and swayed
upon the rich mahogany
that dampened the boom
of the bass were but a peri

pheral morse code. the
set had been awesome,
much to his relief. it was a
night in which to disappear
and to forget. and this dark

corner where he now existed,
alone, but for the muffled
beat, resting upon a ghost
of a plush sofa, propelled his
spirit into the rest of the night

and the end of the weekend.
the unflagging feels of having
evaporated into the world of
the unseen after shimmying
so brightly around and about

and within the glimmering
stew crammed with the craven;
the throngs of the boiling and
intermittently half-conjoined,
all clamoring and crashing and

clanging about during the zero
hours of an otherwise dead-
silent city’s nightclub.