waves. rolling. not that kind of rolling… the ‘womp womp wooooooomp’ kinda rolling. when we first get there, the place was nearly empty … maybe it wasn’t worth the seven dollar cover, i thought. then, after a few drinky drinks… the crowd, yours truly included, started to liven up.

bump. and jump.
thump. and pump.

the waves of drum`n’bass rolling through like a steamroller… everything in its path not flattened, but -phattened-. after breaking a sweat and busting a move, that’s when i noticed it.

him.

floating. a beautiful, pristine white tee in phat—but not too phat—trousers… cute little trainers. and this face of dedications… blissful dedication. intent… intent on busting a move, floating by and breaking my heart on the half beats! climbing up the stairs of my silly, fickle heart…

after trying to imitate, i finally seceeded to his mad skillz. -sigh- … what a beauty… poetry in motion. jumping, pumping, flailing… gentle caressing… it’s all part of his dance routine.

and then… boom boom boom—the brim.

at first i thought he was just checking his cute, little, perfectly curved baseball cap. i mean, how âabercrombieâ!! every tenth step, he would subtly touch the brim of his cap… it was more than just a check (checking it was there – checking it was straight)…. it was part of his [now] erotic little dance… a kiss, if you will, of his fingers to the brim.

the beauty of caps, in addition to hiding one’s haircut, is the lovely way that it frames one’s eyes… this boy had beautiful dark eyes… his intenet gaze, while peaceful, i found to be so interesting.

we danced: drum and bass. straight in your face. i miss the brim. and him.