I love to dance. The past and future both melt away under the heat of the beat. I just lose it out there on the floor. The bass is thumping, and my hips are humping! Ha!
I work on my moves at home, and then, come Saturday night, I take a shower, I put on the Brut, I put some gel in my hair, and I go over to RickRaff's in Murphysboro.
All the way over, it's like the car's filling with anticipation. I play the same mix every time, so I feel like I'm in the perfect mood. When I walk in that door, and pay my ten dollars, it's like the whole week at the gas station has been worth it for this one night. I can hear the music from the hall, I can see girls all over the place and I'm just drooling. I smell their perfume and their sweat.
Then I break out the moves and grooves I've been working on all week. Everyone usually gives me lots of space to work, and I need it, because I am out of control. I usually don't even drink because I have to drive and I want to beon the lookout in case any of the ladies in the place need a ride.
It hasn't happened yet, but if I keep it up. Keep going over to RickRaff's Big Saturday Night Breakdown, someone will go home with me.
It's bound to happen eventually, right?
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