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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Adult · #1446198
A trip down memory lane to the disco
The Quiana Madonnas were all dressed for performing
Me in my white suit while my shoes were platforming
My hair in a white boys afro style cut
Going out on the floor to shake my butt

2001 or Happy Landings it didn't matter to me
Heaven, or Chauncey's maybe the local VIP
Just get up and dance and talk some trash
Bring plenty of money cause it's all about flash

24 inches of 18 karats hanging around my wet nape
Big collared shirt half unbuttoned underneath of my cape
A couple of snorts to make the mood right
A few moments later I'm high as a kite

Be it the Bee Gees, the Trammps or Ms. Donna Summers
We'll be dancing and laughing avoiding the bummers
Free love, free sex the world was our oyster
Hangovers, regrets brought on by the roister

Oh to the days when dancing was fun and was in style
When we were young before we walked down the aisle
A carefree evening before life became so serious
The thought of my wifes' mood loomed so imperious

Those were the days that have melted like snow
So rather than dancing it's off to the doctor I go
The mispent youth that vanished so quickly
Has left me so old, so feeble, so sickly

The only disco dancing I do anymore
Is waiting in line at the restroom door
Hoping and praying there's no accident
Hoping and praying I haven't already went




© Copyright 2008 C.E. Thieroff (babalu726 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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