The snare rains open
Like thousand shimmering heads of snakes
Turned on, ready for dance
Inebriated, not the painful kind
Not the kind that
Reminds me of everybody
And skirting the edges of their world, I
Just the snares.
The Synth-pop, up-tempo
Just talk, you know?
In between horny girls
Up-ed into enthusiasm
And raindrop patters
Of every-day talks over clanking forks
And clinking drinks.
Bouncing into greatness between us.
We must be doing something right.