Saturday Night

The good thing about Saturday is
it starts on a Friday.

But when it ends is a
matter of speculation
again.

We all seek higher ground,
so step it up.
Strung through by bassy sounds,
hung with arms spilling cups,
buzz-stung,
stunned without apology
for feeling free.

“Did I just hear the MC say
‘Pack your parachute, you’re
falling for me?'” she
breathes into my ear
through the next part.

Man, I’ve got euphamisms
for my euphamisms,
but this is the real
me.

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