“The Last Gig” by Jerry Julius
There were blue lights, smoke,
a disco ball and liquor:
you know, BYOB,
a little white lightning.
There were sweet potatoes,
greens, ham hocks, all via potluck,
yes, even some pot.
The women were hot and juicy.
The sound was unimaginable
cause it was all improvised!
How could it have been otherwise?
My limbs were stiff, but anticipated
some dream-like dancing
at the disco the size of a box
laid end-to-end in six feet in Mother Earth.
The cats shoveled in the dirt
to an old work song,
one of those tunes they could not forget,
cause it added days and hours and strength
until it was their time to dance.