Zin & I are dancing into the nucleus of night. We are buff & soul-frothy, innate hacks spinning like quarters. When the remixes stop, we refuse to dry heave. We invent new ways to stargaze at the other; our lips part clouds of dense words, or no words at all. Or our bodies, twirling mercilessly over wet floor & shadow outline, become black holes, sucking in their own truths. We are alive for the moment and die rooms apart. Stillness is the essence of no-wave day. Our hearts pump to the beat of the latest street drug interlaced with our volatile atoms that could self-destruct in the flash of a strobe. Tonight, we are happy. Tonight, we are. We will become lighter than a flicker, more micro than a neutrino. We give each other the best webs of figure eights. We are simplified by the night, orphaned by our own hangovers. So we have another drink & synchronize our two-step & fall into liquor-puddle & opaque reflection. DJs & moon-walkers will be universally shattered. When the lights go on, we will go home to our respective houses of familiar strangers & we will sleep in our numbed bodies until it is almost dark once again.
Kyle Hemmings lives and works in New Jersey. He has been published in Your Impossible Voice, Night Train, Toad, Matchbox and elsewhere. His latest ebook is Father Dunne’s School for Wayward Boys at amazon.com. He blogs at http://upatberggasse19.blogspot.com/