dance party

every morning i wake up and
i don’t want to move.
sure, everyone’s tired in the morning
but what i’m telling you
is i don’t want to move or think
at all.
 
i told her sometimes i feel
like being dead is easier
than being alive.
she said
‘yeah,
but being alive is probably funner.’
she, a young and stunning runner,
said that like it was easy,
having fun.
 
her mouth smiled and my mouth smiled.
the puddles in the street got shimmery.
cars sung past,
and the lady seated alone in the booth beside us perked up,
she uncapped her pen and scribbled something fast,
apparently from memory,
or maybe she heard someone say something
and she’d like to make it last.
 
everyone paid and filed out.
the clerk locked the door and turned out the lights.
a disco ball dropped from the ceiling.
polar bears filed out of the closets
and started waltzing on the tabletops.
i leaned in.
she leaned in.
she whispered:
see?

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