it started off good, but then got weird, and then got bad.
We pumped our fists low and near our sides, almost like we were dancing in wheelchairs.
Purses, drinks, coats and hats and keys and shirts and cellphones and wallets and napkins and little straws all fell off the speakers because of the low minimal techno bass vibrations.
Every time you came out of the bathroom, i got nervous. And every time I went to the bathroom, you got nervous. And I was the only person wearing khaki pants and you were the only person wearing white v-necks.
And there we were, in a hall filled with what seemed to be Asians.
Everyone in huddles, acting like shoplifting teams competing at a department store. People could see each others pulses and you and I giggled when they tried to hide it.
You can’t not talk talk about sweat. Because stuffs hardly ever that wet.
So slick, like the ice after a zamboni pass or a napkin after being pressed on top of a pizza slice.
Physically, there was definitely something wrong. Also, for some reason, your voice sounded like a diamond stuck in my penis. And I bet you thought I didn’t notice I was wearing Easter colors for the third day in a row, but I did.. I notice everything.