The trumpet's voice, loud and authoritative,
Draws me a moment to the lighted
To watch the dancers - all under twenty-five -Solemnly on the beat of happiness.- Or so I fancy, sensing the smoke and sweat,
The wonderful feel of girls.
Why be out there ?
But then, why be in there?
Sex, yes, but
Is sex ?
Surely to think the lion's share Of happiness is found by couples -
Inaccuracy, as far as I'm concerned.
What calls me is that lifted, rough-tongued bell(Art, if you like) whose individual
Insists I too am individual.
It speaks;
I hear; others may hear as well,
But not for me, nor I for them; and
With happiness.
Therefor I stay outside,
Believing this, and they maul to and fro,
Believing that; and both are satisfied,
If no one has misjudged himself.
Or lied.
