Member-only story
Poetry
Going Out / Staying In
She used to hide out
in neon lit honky-tonks
the dance floor open
with a heart singing last call
keys and cash down in her boots
You can arm yourself to the gills with a smile, a pert skirt, and legs that never tire. You’ll need it, since they make you check your baggage at the door. There’s no thinking in the arms of a stranger, nothing but a few rounds of empty air while the band plays, and maybe a dramatic dip during the final notes. You can forge your own chainmail, link by link, but you’ll still be fighting battles in the shadows with the wall flowers.
She used to hide out
inside busy mother life
childhood’s daily joy
a lovie to sooth a heart
tucked in and kept out of sight
You can only stay in the pocket so long before some surprise syncopation will draw you out, a ghost strike on the drums seeking from the silence of its own solitude, an instant of Fibonacci perfection ushering proof to the floor for a final spin. The game ends, the lost are found, in a swan song solo that softens into a pas-de-deux, boots off, keys handed…
