Thursday Night

Threadbare speckled green polyester

Shimmies in the piece-mirror glow

And a man too old to realize his age

Boogies down, wigs out,

And amuses the underage barstool vultures,

Drinking O'Doul's and pretending it's real.

Sepia carpet and orangy Naugahyde

That surely must have matched once

Shows the age the man is repressing

And the burns of his half-smoked cigarettes.

A woman, too old for her dress

And too young for her eyes,

Swipes her pocket-change tip

From the vodka-anesthetized girl

Who lies in a blissful temporary solitude.

The groove is going, going, gone,

And the disco dancer is out of quarters.

The waitress, too old for her heels

And too young for her shoulders,

Relinquishes the better half of her tip

And the polyester shimmies once again

Keeping it alive.

by Lara Sloane