Disco blues

We walk hand in hand
Arm in arm.
Talk about Bollywood
And celluloid charm.
And walking down
The footpath
The conversation scatters
To hip and happening places
To discos in the suburbs.
For the night’s at hand
And we need to dance
Hip to hip, cheek to cheek.
And make it at a rocking night
With friends we dig.
As the man standing
On the console
Like a hellish lord releasing
Lost bodies and soul;
Remixes, rehashes, refurbishes
Something that remotely
Sounds like sound.
Interspersed with
Scratches and screeches.
And ding-dangs and yo-yos
And noises and voices
Twisted and wound.
We yell out to each other
Across the dance floor
Revel in the ecstasy
Of the lights heavenly
And the floor paradise.
But it got to feel that way
Since we’re four pegs down.

I wake up in my bed
With a hellish hangover
And walk down the room
Like the dead.
The paradise lingering
In my distant memory
I make a new call
And seek a new arm.
And call up a fellow loser
For the night’s at hand.