Johnny took the floor, a defiant yet finite look in his eyes. He stopped them, with his swivel hips, his white coat, his wasp waist, his pants up bright, knifed in creases, it’s like back glow lights, this pouty lipped wonder of dance style in scope, where was the 70s always, and glitter balls of silver spread sparks of light into the dark dance hall, where the music tilted wavered and danced with a jagged sourced scream. Johnny was small, but he seemed so tall and clothes rack out on the floor of sparkles of the tears of green and purple and gold litters, and letter by letter the cats came, as he communicated volumes to them all strain and purple and gangly, as they gnarled around his shoulders, and they pert big kitten screams, in pantyhose unable. And I am one and glitter did I invite satin sheets coat, come on Johnny is woo away for the table with the candles and the lights on them.

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