It’s Friday night
and this room reminds me of another girl
I used to be.
Twenty years ago, I was dangerous.
Tonight, I am only hungry for a melody just out of reach.
Warmed by smoke and beer,
I sneak through the crowd to the front row,
swaying to rhythm of Beam and Coke as it sloshes in rowdy glasses.
I always did have a knack for finding
the bass player with the Pagan face
who would break my heart before the sun rose the next morning.
When the music ended, we found ourselves in a dark corner,
mingling riff and sweat and sinew.
Perhaps I am dangerous too.
And there is no sympathy for this devil tonight
as I silence the voice murmuring disapproval in discordant tones.
In the morning, there will be time enough
for a bitter communion.
Tonight, I will sing,
as deviant fingers stroke
the underbelly of my conscience.
– Kathryn Cody