the bartenders haloed by disco lights, the rattle of the shakers, 
the fluster of the drunk twenty-somethings on the dance floor 
slick with sweat and tito’s. the tumult overtakes our heart-
beats, forcing my ears to soundkeep like a stethoscope. my glass-
chilled hands are the listening piece pressed to her diaphragm. 
breathe in. her hands mirror, slipping up my shirt like honey 
dripping in reverse. exhale. she kisses me in the wide open dark-
ness of the club’s underground. in our hiding, she invents 
the sonance of lips, silencing the room with a weighted whisper. 
no one’s looking. who would care if they did. everything bright 
and loud and slippery blurs behind her. she is in focus. 
what if we danced?
the world hides in the pulse of the light.