Clubbing.

Tarmac spangles and the world

rushes before our eager feet.

We are stepping out,

spilling into the night.

Already our boots are ringing

rhythms on the wet pavements.

The lights with their auras,

that warmth under the ribcage,

the rain slanting, all-friendly-like,

the gay snug shouts,

the milling beforehand,

the tender beats inside the tent

are all one and that is all, is all, is all.



Already, I am remembering

what is present.

There is, there will be

no trouble. Instead we'll defend the

defenceless. The talk is earnest.

Here there is gravity, levity.

Here, we're connecting up joy,

joining the dots.

We have our little tasks too.



In the toilets, handbags drop,

things cascade,

sweet stories peal out,

beauty rushes past and

swimming bath laughter is

everywhere.

It's hilarious, you see.

Here we keep pace with everything

because we just can't help it.



After the build-up,

there will be others in the quest

that will last all night, and beyond.

For now we are pioneering,

bathed in special colours and the

returning harbour waves of

sound in a place completed

by itself.

In here,white lights suffuse

the already suffused.

With others we dance

and are perpetually greeting

new faces as long lost

sisters, brothers.

I am sure that the girl

with the shy hair and subdued

presence fancies me. This is why

her dancing, her body has turned

its periscope towards me.

That is why her loaded look

has picked me out from her corner

of the dancefloor, meaningfully.

Of this there can be no denying.

That is why she knows everything

about me, recognizes me

as the long-lost lover,

moves with me,

passes me the coded message

carefully, repeats it

then disappears into her friends.