The Room

I saw the Wailers (Bob Marley's band) last night and it was incredible.
I did not take off my shirt though.

Clubbin'

The room was alive with conversation.
Snippets of sentences,
Words with only individual meaning,
And the murmur of the growing crowd
Strike me like a cacophonous punch.
With the chill of night on my shoulders
And the clashing sweaty heat pulsing from
The room, I step through the threshold.

So many bodies, people packed in
Like pythons in an orgy.
My feet draw me closer,
Nonchalantly through the room.
Over crunching plastic cups,
Kicking discarded bottles and PBR tallboys.

The dancing, steaming mass
Drawing close.
A shoulder against my own
A hand across my thigh
It is a disarming feeling.

When music calls, disregard your anxiety.
Shuck it like a sweat soaked shirt.
Bare-chested, now become the crowd.
Dance with eyes closed.
Dance with soul out.