Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Equal

They crowd the bar like snouts about a trough
And trot around cracked glass in fallen drink,

Herded by pulsing flashing lights and noise,
Letting the music tell them what to think,

To put their hands up in the air and jump,
To chant and whistle to the Piper's beat,

Amidst a heaving mass of sound and sweat,
An infernal reverie of dancing feet.

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