Week Five Poem: Underage

The beat of that song,
You know the one...

Transports me; a time machine

Eighteen and sneaking into clubs

To hear the band

And dance with abandon

Throw myself up to the beat of hot and sweaty drummer

And electric guitar player who is kinda cute.

The doormen knowingly wink as I show them

A false ID

A pretty girl who will dance all night long

In their club is a good thing

Worth the risk of the enforcers

A young lithe body gyrating makes men thirsty and

Helps everyone ignore the peeling paint and stale beer smell

A pretty girl

Dancing

Laughing

Teasing…

Twenty-seven years later

Is she still there inside me?

I hear the opening beat of that song

And know

Part of me will be eighteen forever

A rock-n-roll heart is hungry and

Calls over and over

It never grows old.

I think I’ll get a new tattoo.

Something for fun, folks. I've been a tad too serious of late. ~Cass