Dance Hall Poem by lola cesini

Dressed for the ball, carry your shoes
Ready to dance to rhythm and blues
Or maybe the swing with continental flair
Following steps of would be Fred Astairs
Who practice their routine night after night
Wishing their partners were less uptight

Toothless old men who reek with bad breath
And Old English mixed with three days old sweat
Looking for someone with interest to share
Stories of good old days, of people who cared
When the dollar they spent would last the night
Not just ten minutes of musicians' delight

Drunken sailors with tales of long days at sea
Expressing needs, starved for woman's company
Saliva on lips, drooling like Pavlovian's dogs
Minds filled with visions of getting it on
Lustful eyes, sweaty palms on roaming hands
Fully aroused pressing thighs making demands

Silhouettes, couples in corners passions abound
Rocking with rhythm to the beat of their drums
Refreshments served at tables by the side
For those who prefer to sit and not stride
Intimate conversations or small chit chats
Fifty cents a ticket will get you all that

Whether practicing steps or refining moves
All men are welcome to pick and to choose
There are women galore and some do put out
Those men that get one have a lucky night out
While others will settle for five minutes time
Of a dancer for money without feelings or rhyme.