galvanic/tonic
For an hour or two we confabulated. The sound of your voice did a dance around my eardrums. It swam with my brain waves creating a mental ebb and flow. We exchanged our share of languid smiles and fabricated our pasts to make for a more intruiguing plotline. You told me of your nomadic ancestors and life at sea; resulting in encounters with obstreperous pirates. I confessed succumbing to a heroin addiction and traveling cross country with a mindnumbing, murderous cult. My laughter ceased when I came to the decision that our conversation had [nine asses]. The perplexity of your facial expression in response to my abrupt silence stirred my soul-juice and I jumped at this chance to change surroundings. We entered the midnight jazz club on the corner and rapidly became entranced by the soothing tunes. A quick turnaround of mood. The frenzied saxophone, impatient drum beat, laid back bass line, twilight twinkle of piano keys engulfed the dim room. It only consisted of the colours blue, black and red. The red being the lips of the voluptuous women swaying to the music. Their companions tapping their feet, sipping their scotch. There was a haze of cigarette smoke hovering over our heads, exhalations of the cool ones. We stepped out. The bitter air made for bitter stares and God's dandruff began to drop from the sky. The night was never ending. We're still living it out.