The Atrium

The Lounge

The spinning lights dancing overhead

Distant clanging of glass on wood

Near-blackout drunk on stage

Singing a song of nostalgia

Cool drinks lubricate our shackles

Simple conversation brings down the walls

Unbalanced and unbound

Open hearts sing like birds in spring

Escaping into the night like prisoners

Huddled in the car as if a hideaway

Sharing smoke and music

Comfort found in the passenger seat.

Leaving the Lounge with fond memories

Returning the precious package home

With locked eyes and touching foreheads

Breaths are given and taken