The Vogue

The lights dim and the speakers groan
with life.
The smell of sweat hangs stale
like rain in the theater.
Muted conversations and laughter
litter the air.
Cigarette smoke filters in,
coating my hair with its odor.
Metal squeaks and squeals
sound with the tune of the bass.
Beer bottles clink and spin
with camaraderie.
The crowd draws in a breath
in unison.
The guitarist plays the opening
line for the mass.
Bodies sway back and forth
to the rhythm.
There is a life
with music.