Tuesday, January 20, 2015

doyt doyt

I dreamed last night that I was young and dancing
   Back in the days when dancing was our drug.
We’d start the night off gorgeous and entrancing
   And wind up wasted, passed out on the rug,
With kitchen towels for blankets, or out cold
   Outside under a beat-up Chevrolet
(True story)—with no thought of being old
   Enough to watch kids dance when our songs play.
In that loud living room of long ago,
   I'm still there singing to Rickie Lee Jones—
And if Life's like a body, then I know
   That all those midnight moments are my bones:
      No matter how I go, or where I lie,
      Those nights will be the last of me to die.


Copyright 2015 Matthew J Wells


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