"Yeur Very Perdy"

Dancing Town

It's a dusky dawn, lights dimmed and warm, the Pub is lively. A new cowboy just rolled into Santa Fe, New Mexico, where the summers are hot but some might say the people are hotter. Many dream of those who were born here. Not just the gentle smiles of those around but what is behind that smile, warm and genuine love. That's why he's here.

a sultry boy walks in, hes not tall, but he sure is pretty. at least someone believed so. he adorns blue jeans with a fitted gray shirt with a buckle of a horse. His shoes dragging along the stained mahogany wood feeling the effects of a newcomer. he looks up, orange strands falling into place. Blue eyes scan the room, falling on every human he can seen, gently taking in the tones and hues of color those chose to wear. 

Small talk fills the stuffy club with men with guitars and soft spoken voices sing melodies with tranquility. New aged music is all the rage. People from all walks of life come into the bar, those who have stories words can write. others have sorrow and holes that can never be filled. many of times country music never played, just that of melancholy hums and words that one wishes they could hear from another.

a simple guitar riff begins. 

"Mary is the girl that i wanna kiss"

"Shes got big red eyes and big red lips"

the ginger man gently smiles, songs from his young teens brings back the memories of which when his friends had not much to think about. just the idea of what was next in 3rd hour. Back when he could write and listen to the music that could make anyone feel the gentle waves of sleep. 

"Sing it for me, baby, play my song"

"I wanna hear your daddy sing along"

he strolls over to where an area of solitude is readily available. taking a seat at the bar, the stool made of wood that has seen better days. Warped with time is stands at an angle one could fall from. a server notices him and begins his rounds shaking a comso in a rythmatic motion.

"Hello sir, might i indulge you in a drink?"

"Oh, yes. what do you have on tap?"

the server waves his hand in the direction of which holds the many of alcoholic drinks that one might begin to dream of. Anything from a craft bear to a simple whisky. the young man stretches out to make the view easier. the chair which holds him shifts.

"Um, i think ill have a- holy shit-"

"Oh my lord, sir are you alright?"

"Please, call me Stanley, and yeah, just a little fright, that's all. Ill have a whisky on the rocks please."

"Of course, Stanley."

the server beings rounds across the table where a group of well dressed men sit chatting the day away. Large presences and loud mouths are what Stanley notices first, many of the men in the crowd with plad shirts and personalities the size of the sun; smiles larger than their egos. But the music changes, from the slow somber melancholy feeling to a hyper energetic waves pumping through the veins of the patrons. 

" Make it to the high fashion "

Those who recognize the song scream in joy. Feminine joy seeping through the skin of those who ride horses and deny any faction of which they might be swinging not just the bat. One who looks as if they are comfortable within their sexuality joins those who are already enjoying themselves on the lowered wooden dance floor. 

"Size Zero

and my boots from Valentino"

Many of the people shacking ass scream the lyrics like their life depends on it. Many adults showing adult action within proximity of the floor. Hair flying everywhere, clothing begins to scatter. The poor ginger's eyes begin to regret opening this morning. 

A brown haired man saunters out from the dept of hunger and lust to make way for another drink. A small glimmer of shine is noticeable from the excessive dancing. Still nothing the words to the volgure song Stan could tell this man was lost in his own world. 

He has a turned brow and looks like a lost puppy, he scans the room in need of something. He lands on a red stool, a child like smile invites itself in on his face and little wrinkles decorate his leather skin.