Observed Last Night at a Local Pub
Just saw a man
Grinding on a juke box
In jacket and jeans
And sandals with socks,
Dipping and weaving
Giving the best that he’s got.
Having a Guinness or two
My friend and I were discussing
Gender identity
Just a moment before
This everyday Joe hit the floor.
Head lowered to focus
On his robust gyrations
And pelvic thrusts
He approached and caressed the juke box
But he never touched.
Like Jagger,
His stylized moves
Were for all to see
But the dart players nearby
Avoided this bull expertly.
Meanwhile the man’s deft fingers
Were bent in a rictus of ecstasy.
The song was over
The man was gone
I gulped, shook my head
And the conversation went on.
By Paul John Roach