moejo

I stub my cigarette in the ashtray as I hear her name announced. Women -- despite how we complain when in their grasp, we cannot deny that they possess over us a hypnotic hold even at times when we are free of them. Hence I find myself here for the fourth consecutive Thursday at 11pm. Despite our small number, she blushes upon seeing the crowd as she enters from behind the stage. Smiling, the tail of her sleek, black dress slides behind her as she makes her way to the piano. Seated now, she closes her eyes. And lets her hands sink. A chord resonates throughout the dimly lit bar as yet again, my breath is taken away from me. This number is