Last night, I wore a short dress and too much hairspray.
I danced the music until it wore thin
and my feet were bruised,
covered in dirt.
I didn't sweat
or speak, but screamed instead,
hoping somehow to get back in your head.
As usual, I went deep
underground, into sewers filled with liquor,
and people filled with sound.
So my hips shook, hands twisted, feet moved,
eyes closed, mouth waiting;
and when the music was about to
snap, I collapsed and stayed standing.
Last night, I was neither here nor
there, but neither were