soapboxdiner

Maniac

Two men walk into the bar, focused and determined. Door man, drink, dance floor. They did not verve to the right or to the left, but straight to the disco ball, moths to a flame.

It was loud, throbbing. They danced together, the two focused, determined men. One was looking at the wall and one was staring at his partner. Staring, focus, sweat beading, running into his eyes. Staring. There was a hip hop pop in his hip. It was stilted and unfluid. It was thrusting like vertical sex without touching and it infected anyone who bothered to take notice.

If house music and the man had an anthem, it would be Hall & Oates.

He's a maniac, maniac on the flo-oor. And he's dancing like he never danced befo-ooore.

6:27 am - 02.03.03
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