The sounds of "Only the Good Die Young" start up and I'm dancing barefoot with my arms in the air, knotted long hair spinning and every toe is feeling the scratchy embrace of the familiar green carpet.
Feels so free, feels so good.
It's just a select few of us upstairs, happier together then, before the great bunch of 100 people come pounding up the stairs from below. Happy still together then.
It'll roar in here soon, in the haze of Lucky Strike smoke and junk ...and the sounds of heavy breathing on the dance floor, on the futon, in all the little hideaways I'd found in the two floors below over a year's time. Creaky openings of the old doors - furniture being slid up behind them as locks.
I'll soak it up in every pour, squeezing tresses of my hair off of my sweat-filled neck...and grasping onto his skin-sticky with tequila-as we dance, and he sniffs -and twitches-and sniffs again-and whispers the lyrics into my ear with a nibble.
I'll kiss him with her lipstick still on mine and we'll all be so happy.
Down I went so many times like that.
Down baby, down, down, ohhh thought it felt so good.
And now I wake sometimes in the dead of night and stare out at the city from the otherside of a kind, soft shoulder ...or just a lump of blankets ....and I remember being that woman. I wake suddenly as if I'm waking up the very morning after. Yet months and mistakes and irreparable damage to a couple hearts lies in between.
Fell in love and gave up the old life.
Ran away half-way across the country.
Now everyday is one farther from the last cigarette, and one more in a beautiful, cleaner city life.
I don't know who I'm gonna be next - but tomorrow I'll get up at dawn again and chase my dreams.
It's the funniest damn thing.
