It seems like only yesterday That this story came to life in This darkened - smoke filled room. Seems like a silly place for people to gather In such a smelly sardine fashion. The band on stage finishing up its last number Of their best set of copy cat blues. The neon bar sign flashes as if a short While the bartender bellows out “Last Call.”
One fellow sitting at a table in front of me Seems to find his nerve. I suppose enough Jack Black was all that was needed To make his first move. A few words pass and then He leads his new found princess To the dance floor. Many leaving, many preparing to leave As these two begin to dance.
They move perfectly together Without any sound Except for the drummer who ends The beat with a final clamber of sound. The guitar man leans his weapon against the wall While the keyboard player turns off his magic.
But the two just keep on dancing.
The bar tender begins swabbing the decks While an old gray haired man Sweeps the floors in front of him Turning the chairs up as he goes. Sweeping away the memories of this night - The old man stops to pick up a lost yellow rose Someone dropped carelessly on the floor. The old man takes the rose over to the couple dancing Taping the young man on the shoulder he asks, “Did ya drop this?” The fellow, still moving to the imaginary beat responds, “No sir, but I think she did.” Taking the rose, holding it in one hand, she doesn’t miss a beat, Still dancing with her newfound partner. Walking by my table the old man nods at me While saying, “It’s time to go.” Getting up I place my chair on the table Still watching the couple dancing. My ears still ringing from the sounds Of the band as I finish off my water. And I wonder, I wonder if I was a drinking man, One like the one on the dance floor Tightly absorbed in the moment, With his new found lady friend