Reggae Night

I swayed just below Shenanigans’ front stage; Budweiser in one hand, another's fingers intertwined in my own as my arms reached for the far. Reggae was alive in my movements, and I, in love with the moment.

I found every verse unique in the lean of my hip, roll of my head or clap of my hands. And we performed in unison. My partner’s lead was the greatest melody. With his touch, I was electrified. The shimmering ruby red and green lights, their fallen golden embers, couldn’t lay into my body and engulf me quite as his hand could mold to my waist, cheek to my shoulder, lips to my neck. I spun, eyes wild. Our fingers tiptoed for seconds, only to collide again, and once united with his grasp my gaze was locked to his smile, the motions of a laugh. I mimed his tongue and we sang. As the words poured we splashed in their puddles to all rhythms; the rhythm of my pounding chest, clanking bottles, echoed whispers. And the ground shook! So I reveled in this new euphony.

Then, all melodies subsided, the red and green rubies were stomped, and the last of light’s embers sizzled on the floorboards. I minded myself to ditch the glass on the exit’s deck base. It tilted, the disk spun and toppled, rolling to the gutter with the rest of them to be soured in stench and abandoned. He led me down. We descended from the high to shake off sweat in the ocean air.