Dead Discotheque 

From my award-winning power in “A Fine Line”

A few bricks sticking out of the shrubs

Dead discotheque

Where I used to dance

To no matter what

The sultan of swing I was

————

Lots of old patrons look much worse than I do

With wives

Kids

Big bellies

Balding

Pathetic

For I know

I’m positive

That they don’t remember

Those nights with Dire Straits

Bob Marley

Joe Cocker

Or even Black Box

————

They’ve grown up

I’ve sat on my laurels

I’ve lived out a lot on my bucket list

Yet when half your life is over

When you think of bedpans

You panic

————

She smokes joints

Drinks

Is only 28

Late rebel

————

The girls think I’m so smart

So cool

They imagine what my weekend is like

They love my organic chocolate

My knowledge and African geography

That I write

And am cosmopolitan

Hip

Well-dressed

————

She sucks on a joint

I accidentally see her

She smiles

A bit embarrassed

Slightly overweight

But what hair

What eyes

And old-school

————

Dead discotheque

You fuck my head

I go to grown-up places

And feel sad

I see guys dominated by marriage

Shells of their former selves

It makes me panic

I take some Valerian

Dead discotheque

Replaced by responsibility

Capitalism gnawing away

Rock groups turning pop

Nirvana on adult contemporary

————

I spoke to her

Idiotically

About something over her head

She politely smiled

Embarrassed

Swigged some beer

“What now my love?”

In a French accent

In a live discotheque

Among others

Ignorant of culture

Music

Art

Science

Who exist and don’t care

Don’t give a fuck

Self-castrated by their ignorance

I envy them

Grab her locks

Blonde and natural brown

I lose control

So does she

We kiss

————

Dead discotheque

It saddens me

Yet I move on

Thank you

————

I see fountains

I see skies

Endless blue skies

Beneath them is the ocean

And there I am

Ageless

Under a full moon

Watching her rolling a joint

I never touch that stuff

But it just excites her so much

————

Dead discotheque

I cry now

My youth is there

My carefree years

My lullabies

————

She’s high

She wants to forget

Husband finally got papers to come here

She doesn’t want him

She agreed not to divorce if he never called her again

Copyright Ted Kouretas 2001

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