The Night We Danced

It seems to always replay so clearly in my head.
The night we danced.
Although I could not tell you the clothes that we wore
or the kind of cheap beer that we drank.
I can tell you that we were happy, you and I.

The bar smelled of excessive cigarette smoke
and crisp Northern Michigan air
while snow settled quietly outside.
The regulars, old men and women with scowling faces
played their poker games in silence.

But we were never silent.
We caused the ruckus and stayed until
they booted us out.
The only jukebox usage there
was when we were in town.

And that one night...as we came together
and moved as one while a song blared out loud.
Drunken and foolish, we lost our balance
and you fell on top of me.
We did not move for the longest time.

Unaware and completely careless of
our surroundings, tears rolled down our faces
from laughter.
And we looked at each other that way
for what seemed like a whole lifetime.

That is the one memory that seems to replay
when I try to think back on a happy time
of you and I.
When I reminisce over a circumstance in which
we were not trying to rip each other's heads' of.

The night we danced was
as real as it gets.
I will always have that.
And I will always want
the night we danced.