Downed a bottle of wine with the no mind as the three girl musketeers set out in a whirlwind of fabric, cut-off tights, and warm cheeks. We'll beat the heat! They could scream with the hoity-toity cute voice blasting from the old speakers of the automobile that is cruising thirty miles an hour to the hip beat in the street. Blue heels break my feet as the cars whir by with agitation. Too bad they can't join the fun is what they're thinking as the three girls wrinkle their noses and laugh, feet trodden through the light brown dirt. Slap that ass! as they stumble past. Hasty admission into the dance hall because they are not waiting in line. Small talk with the passerby's. They grab each others arms and fluidly fly past the dancers with ease, making their way to the bar as hopefuls grab at their hair. Don't you dare! Two beers later and the dancing is hot. Haven't danced like this in years. Absolute abandon as I throw my head back and surrender to the fear. Crashing my wrists against the hot air making eyes with the boy over there. Is it fair?
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