the continuing adventure

she was referred to me by a colleague in my office, Melody, a dominatrix, in the least, i suspect. nice, interesting, but....no heat. so many of them have this, or rather lack this -- this heat, this to me essential trait, which makes the difference, really, in the end, as to whether or not i want to see you again.

and, earlier -- before the five or 6 odd bud lights, before the dancers, the girls, those sweet, young strong girls, the dancers, those dolls -- before them there was the second -- a social worker at a hospital. a nice girl. but -- no heat.

is there a possible unified theory of the universe? would it resemble this:

1) given -- once, we had any manner of substance produced of or from the earth, our mother, at our disposal, and

2) through the millenia, more and more of our god-given rights have been restricted and/or prohibited by our fellow man, frequently in the form of our so-called elected government, then

3) now, we crave what we once had, what once was ours, unquestionably -- be that beers at eight pm, or martinis at nine-thirty, or dancers, or tapas, or good conversation and laughter, or pain killers, or aspirin, or exercise or heroin or sex or wine or (very) pretty (!) girls, nearly naked, smiling and dancing......

of course we crave these things. of course we do.

they stand in a line, fluid, single file, moving, each to the rhythm of their own precious soul, misguided perhaps, but no less precious, united only by the driving beat offered by the annoying dj, swaying, pumping, the beat and their legs, and hips, all hydraulic beauty, sculpted faces and silken hair, smooth brown skin taught over their abdomens, the lights flickering, flashing, lasers piercing the night floor.

the dance goes on.