1/17

I wind up on a dance floor again.  With motion and sweat and smiles, I wind up on the dance floor.  And this wasn't my intent.  I came for a beer and some light bar banter.  I came to relax, ease myself into a wooden stool, and think not of my worries.  Nothing too engaging. 

So, it's slightly surprising when my shoulders begin to dip and rise with the beat of the snare on Bowie's Rebel Rebel.  When my feet start to tap out the lead guitar on the hardwood floor.  When my fingers get drumming on the tabletop.

It's not too long before I'm surrounded by bodies.  Bodies bouncing up and bodies bending down, with arms spiraling out in electric fashion and feet that hop and kick and fling about.  It's not too long till the heat is rising and voices are joining in song.  Till everyone has embraced the infectious energy and pure passion that David Bowie left for us.  

And to think, I wanted to be home by nine.