A hundred sweating, writhing bodies
stamp their weekday laden feet
upon the tainted deck.
The felt between throbbing speakers
and hordes of lust-drunk stompers
shakes as though it may tear.
Indiscriminate forget-me-nots are
handed out with grins and hips
to those whose memory blurs.
Cups of midnight absolution
are desperately sought by
self appointed social paragons.
Pulsing lights from a ceiling unknown
pour out their golden net and catch
two hundred wide-eyed glares.
And in the darkness they may move
like fairytale monsters under cover,
but all stay still once caught.
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