Sweating Music, By Ronald S Porter
the music is sweating in the room
strings and reeds bump and grind
slow-dragging dancers entwine
oh the fruit is ripe upon the vine
and the wine of love and laughter
a mingled vintage- joy and tears
now are drunk down to the dregs
then another round is poured
urgency prowls the crowd's periphery
everybody waiting for... nobody knows
but we'll pitch a fit when it gets here
some might even shed some clothes
desire is straining in the room
lust sniffs around like an old hound
trying to catch the scent,
purposed to pick up the trail
hunting money, hunting magic
hunting comfort, hunting tail
sweaty music sound still coming down
where are soft arms that hold tight
warm lips to lie that it's all right?
night turns like a page in a book
the guitar player throws out a hook
and sweating music command us look
for when the morning shall come
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