Coolness of night
is the heat of music
ripples of song wash
against the shoreline
of ears
abandoned to the will
of music and whiskey
the unreliable are drawn
into convincing eyes
absorbed within the web,
a wicked spell they accept
ugly crazy lights flash,
freezing frames
without motion
the club has no name
or front door
its on a dirt road
two lefts
off the highway
Roger Singer 