Frisco Night

March 15, 2008
The club’s already hopping by the time I get there
A divine beacon of billowing smoke serpents and irrefutable cool
Rising right from the ashes of this desolate town
With flashing lights that keep calling me forward
Closer, closer, closer until my nose hits the door
And there’s a young kid standing just inside
Wearing skin-tight slacks a few inches too short
And tree-frog sneakers stained with wine that’s
Spilling over his glass as he leaps around, shrieking
He stops when he sees me and strips the coat off my back
Pushes me inside and gets me a glass of I-don’t-know-what
I drain it and look through the kaleidoscope bottom like he says
And it all pops out like BAM!
Sweat-soaked bodies gyrating to snare and hi-hat
Laughter cutting through a symphony of gold and silver
The bassist pluck, pluck, plucks the strings until one snaps
And I swear I see God Himself reflected in the bass drum
Suddenly there’s a saxophone screaming quarter notes in my face
Double time! He’s got IT!
The Boss-o-Bop His Holiness, SIR
Fedoras are flying through the air like saucers
And I’m spinning sideways as someone sets the volume down
So very low…
The scene’s moving slow…
Should we take it down a notch? The kid in neon green asks
Sick sad silence…
Then the drummer smiles, and while he’s beaming
Begins a tense drumroll, building steam
Then suddenly…
A-one, two three FOUR!
Left eardrum splits in two as the right one starts ringing
It’s my kind of agony, especially with the lightbulbs
Swinging over me, baking the sweat onto my skin
And the heavy smoke from cigars clogging my nostrils
Until I feel like I’ll die if I don’t get a fresh breath

But the air outside just isn’t like the air in here

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