netwerking
2015-02-07 @ 11:01 a.m.

We rode over on the free downtown bus with characters, creatures, conversations, and heart palpitations. The way the graffiti seemed to writhe past our windows, I swear it was trying to keep our attention away from the eyeing driver.

All I have to pay admission is this heart beat in my cage; I hope that is enough. The early group was the older crowd. We sipped our cocktails and chatted politely with familiar colleagues. And then, the beat dropped.

I sought you out, and we danced all night. I danced like a puppet at an out-of-tune circus gone wrong and yet my mouth put up a big red clown smile to my cheeks. My hips swaying, my knees bending, hands toward the tall, dark ceiling. You knew all the songs that I never heard, and later, in your shiny and reflective car (was that metaphoric?), we all shouted and made friends with the cars that drove like animals next to us, racing and breathing hard to catch up.

Emerging with grace, we courted each other on the dance floor. Was it your eyes that were catching the light, or was it your curls? Let me be the fabric that flows in and around your thighs, a temporary thrill for you. What are you into?

I lost you in the crowd. Come out, come out; we all give up. Let's go back to our bathroom selfies and sweaty hugs as the band watches us be intimate. Collecting the faces of our almost-lovers, we lock eyes, we grasp hips, we dip we dip we dip. Are we one? Are we synonymous for each other? Did we synchronize the rise and falls of our chests, the pounding of our hips, the beauty of our desire for each other?

My need for you is a run-on sentence, never ending, painfully growing, and at times, seemingly senseless. And yet we just met.