Nights out began with the drive into city lights, the transverse cables of ANZAC Bridge - your crystal scorpion swinging rainbows across your cheek bone our mascara still in tact. We didn't drink each for different reasons but we danced like nobody watched us just to prove we could. Those heady techno beats, raucous lights pumping: adrenaline pistons The Night Train. We wore sneakers and tight pants our hair strung with the ribbons of other peopleβs cigarettes and later as morning draped the city in soft grey chiffon we'd sit (by a MacDonald's window; or on a wall overlooking the cold echoey slab of Darling Harbour) drinking coffee our eyes dried out our thoughts gritty as sleep dust and watch the day pant into being with the moan of the street sweeper.
Written for Miz Quickly’s Oct 29 Prompt “Dancing in Colombia”
I felt as though I was right there with you. Really well written again.π
LikeLiked by 1 person
thanks, Hobbo β€
LikeLiked by 1 person
ππ
LikeLike
Splendid! A sensory treat.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Many thanks!
LikeLike
Date night, perfectly recounted. Awesome tell. Thanks.
LikeLiked by 1 person
thank you!
LikeLike
Gritty and glorious!
LikeLiked by 1 person
fun times. π
LikeLiked by 1 person
‘adrenaline pistons’ what a fantastic phrase. Describes the techno beat perfectly.
LikeLiked by 1 person
thanks Ulle! π
LikeLiked by 1 person