Seated upon his throne, he surveyed
an illumined kingdom of masses washed
bright by multi-colored stage lights.
Purple smoke clouds rose out over sounds
of the hazy concert crowd,
scuffling fights, flicking
lighters and beer bottles clinking.
Viewed through their booze-fueled,
kaleidoscopic filter, the drummer akin to a god.
His hand raised a living crowd, roaring,
they brought their fists to the sky.
He savored the wave of united voices, washing over him, reverberating,
and let it hang,
captive,
waiting.
The blackout of lights left
a shadow larger than life.
His detonating crack
slit the throat of the
crowd with a
knife.
Then the band crashed in all around him.
The crowd found their voice and thundered
back with a rushing roar.
Oak on bronze ringing dark
yet bright, pulling each drumstroke,
but never pushing,
feeling the groove breathe,
letting the beat ride.
Her silhouette,
petite-packed rock chick attitude,
black nail polish and lipstick,
her slim figure vibing with vamp,
heads turned to greet fishnet tights
revealing pale skin sleeved
in monochrome ink.
The shirtless drummer shined as she watched,
tracking his movement with bright green eyes.
His presence captured and imprisoned her,
leeching.
She hoped impossibly,
that somehow he knew
that she was searching to find
something that would cause him to stumble
onto the twisting path that ended
in her vampiric gaze,
calling out,
reaching.
One and three,
kick drum pumping,
bass line moving,
ripping,
thumping.
Two and four,
drum snares snapping,
lead guitar wailing,
notes overlapping.
When that reaching thirst finally connected,
he returned a wolfish stare, hunger conveyed
through his moving torso, a muscled ocean that stirred
with motions reminiscent of her thirst.
She invited the pursuit, challenged with smoldering looks,
dared him to come out and play, to give her chase,
both had played this game, their roles known,
he was the unrelenting predator that stalked,
she offered herself as prey,
most willing.
He accepted his role and agreed with bravado,
his physique and aura hypnotizing,
as the opportunity of her wildest dreams kicked
her sex drive, revving her into high gear.
His ghost notes skittered
around the pocket, haunting,
until his back-beat beat
back against power chords
to hijack the track
back from the Strat’s
screaming feedback.
The crowd charged electric,
clapping,
cracking.
Her eyes raised to the stage, watching,
her impatient lips licked with sly moves,
suggestive motions that sent subtle messages,
revealed slowly as she showed him the meanings,
the secret fantasies left unsaid, a side of her sexuality
she meant to show him as she shared what words cannot,
or will not be spoken aloud, the darkest desires of her heart.
A two hour concert filled with hungry eyes teasing
their torturous anticipation, reciprocal exchanges
sharing sub-textual nuance at every opportunity.
He came to understand her message over time,
but the potential possibilities raised
butterflies whose wings flipped
to lift the tempo, quickened
breathing, heavy panting
sent her heart-rate
racing to pound
painful rising
in anxious
suspense.
She indicated what she wanted to do to his body,
he winked with a smooth smile
that sent the butterfly wings,
back-flipping.
His cymbal work contrasted with the tribal tom beat,
a primal groove that surrounded and disoriented her.
She found herself losing the way,
able to see enough,
she followed the chorus out.
The dark melody recalled an aching awareness
that dumped fuel on her fire, once again
she felt the hot humidity rising
from between unsteady legs,
the source,
a signaling flare.
Her body burned aflame,
sizzling,
blazing.
When instruments ceased with deafening finality,
venue lights pierced through her dream,
leaving her in an uncertain daze.
A mirage gestured her forward
as she pushed to the stage.
Grabbing her by the waist, he lifted
her into the air, floating,
not a dream,
tangible.
They moved backstage into the green room,
her voluntary silence the only barrier
between the predator’s feasting gaze
and soon to be ravaged prey.
Dank fragrance permeated the air,
drinks poured over ice,
his bandmates lounged on the couch.
She pressed a finger to his lips,
a reminder.
Her one condition,
speechless participation,
the line she couldn’t cross.
The drummer nodded affirmation.
He sprung and she leaned
into the attack, met
it and pushed back,
lips forming a kiss.
She bit his lip ring, pulling,
and explored his tongue piercing,
tasting his metal.
Pressed between solid rock and a wall,
she sensed unseen men standing,
felt undressed by four sets of eyes,
lasers that pierced through clothes,
burning into her skin.
