At the Disco

Alone at the disco,
A couple of drinks
And all that comes out
Is poetry.

Grown from memories
Of Records and TV
Played out
In an Ultra-Boring Scene.

"Welcome in. Follow the rubber line to your seats."
But there are no seats.
There is no Rubber Line.

Only vacant stares.

Enlightenment doesn't help.
You stand.
Powerless.
While what you know must occur
DOES.

Seeing into men's souls doesn't help.
You still don't know what they are going TO DO.
Who is true to themselves THESE days?

An evil man walks among us.
To steal our souls, he asks:
"What do you want?"
In our desperation
We tell him.


	23 March 1996
	by Bill Cattey