A Night at the Bismarck

A sultry backbeat,
Quietly teeming with brass
And bass and sensuality.
A female voice, red-lipped and
Silver-shined, sweetly proclaiming
How grand her love may be.
Starting quickly, then slowing
To a heart pulse, a beat of lovers,
Then racing again like those same lovers
Pulling in for a kiss and pulling out for
A dance, a jitterbug.
Couples crowding the wooden floor,
Each pounding with desire and laughter.
Only one circles the floor,
Quiet in his morose passion,
The need to dance his frustrations aside
And leave the cruel night
Around him behind and alone forever.