fff#51

again, late, but my live performances weekend gone are more than reason enough, and weekend coming i get to challenge meself simply to meet fff deadlines for a change, ent? i gather this trigger a little tough but figure alla-we down for a challenge, right...so my attempt@ flash fiction friday #51 [inclusion] trigger; moss, loss, floss, gloss, boss:

the actual last dance eh the one the dj announce. is come right after, your ears straining slightly for loss of volume because sound system packing up, lights turn on and brooms appear and if you were at all blivious you’d clock level cut-eye levelled your way from all paid to be there who want you gone, but you wrap up like a roti in this dance, the deep, slow, tight, quiet, intense wine of bodies not ready to be separated…
some nights the music just take you, carry you somewhere unknown, ecstatic, and you eh know how you reach or come back or wha’ happen in between but you feel the dancing in your bones still after music stop; movement spirit your self away to parts unheard-of, sneaking past ti-marie’s trap snapping shut, under soucouyant skin hide up in silk-cotton tree, not just behind god back but further beyond to places, spaces, where drum alone is heartbeat, feet follow hips without feeling the shift from solid wood to mossy earth to not even touching ground anymore, senses aloft and the world spinning only to the rhythm you dancing…
and some nights when you reaching out there if another energy reaching out into the universe too it can lift you higher, sweeping along with yours and raising the vibes and you dance the outer edges of infinity, ever-expanding, all light+sound, until the dj call…
and then you guide each other’s journey back, sweat-drenched, glossy-eyed, breathing ragged like exhausted masqueraders just cross the stage, floss wilted now, feathers drooping and beads buss ‘way, but tired with gladness, never sadness, except for the knowing you back in reality now and the bossman say, party done.

walk good.