late night blues (prose poem)

The quiet blues fill the room, this basement church (and occasional bat trap) saturated with a smooth groove. The dancing is varied, improvised: two sway to the slow rhythm as another pair gently spin with the melody. 

Feel how the beat resonates through your body, how you become the music in the moment, your bodies instruments creating the song itself. Every dance is a composition, but not all compositions need bells and whistles. Some are content with smooth simplicity, with the connection that hums as bodies touch.

-Zero