A smog
of sawdust and cigarette smoke penetrates my nose.
Groaning stairs beneath my feet voice
my concerns.
A tired
hall welcomes me
with the illumination of lights and faces.
Beneath the enlightenment lies a constellation
of humanity: wishing
to find themselves through the bar and the dancing.
The generated air is stale,
and dying
to be let out.
It’s trapped, as desperate as young children
who yearn to be older.
Its quiet companion,
the walls, don’t give away any of the stories they’ve witnessed and
cradled these many years.
Tornadoes of nostalgia,
people old and young are creeping on the past.
Every muscle, every bone, is moved
by love.
Leaping and diving with every fiber
of their beings,
bodies sing and swoon with
the fullness of tomorrow.
Duke Ellington,
maharishi,
begs us to stay just a little longer.
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