(in response to the November Notes Writing Challenge as hosted by A Reading Writer and Heartstring Eulogies.)
The denizens move to a different beat
It’s not the rat race moving their feet
You can feel the pulse of the midnight city
Boys smoking hot, girls crazy pretty
Moving and grooving out on the floor
Winding and grinding, yearning for more
In the midnight city there is no shame
Don’t want your number, don’t need you name
Do what feels good, do what feels right
Everyone’s welcome in the heat of the night
When the sun comes up they all dissipate
Til the city returns, in the shadows they wait
Devil Doll Musings 