Saturday, 12 November 2016


You wouldn’t know anymore
I hardly know myself
Hanging there
In the smoke-stream
Of the discotheque
Almost weightless, yet heavy
With memories and scents
Deities of the youthful life

There is movement, I recall
At least I remember
The lithesome gyrating bodies
In the half-light and sparkles
Of the warm pulsating dance floor
Your presence; immense yet distant
Beyond the first continuum
Deity of the useful life

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