butter rum bean

From the floor up the maple glow of the veneered bar swam and swam.  I took her by the waist and led her to the dance floor.  She stood herself ready before me and the music poured into the maple glow and the smoke grew thick.  Her hand was on my shoulder and our right hands held fast and we made a ship and wandered through the maple music sea.  It was dark and the maroon carpet walls muffled the scrapes of our feet and the music swallowed our dash across the maple sea.  The voice of Blake poured from the jukebox and the smoke rose as the music filled the room.  We wandered and steered our ship through the waves and nothing existed outside us and the maple glow of Blake’s bass voice and the neon firelight and the dancing fingers of the dark.  I felt not her and she felt not me and no longer did we need to breath because the music took us far into the maple sea.  The bartender made the last call from the house of glass and light and mirror behind bar.  We steered our ship from the dance floor to the dark fingers at the shore of the maple sea.  We were heaven’s butter rum bean pebbles anchored for away from the maple glow of the sea that filled that moment.