He stood, head down,
Eyes closed, mouth pursed
Looking up, he glanced round to his left,
Shaking his hair and casually brushing it from his face
With a brief gesture
Making eye contact with the three musicians
Each acknowledged with a wry, but sweet smile “here we go again”
Taking in the latent power of the array of Marshall amps,
Strung across the broad, horseshoe stage, almost surrounding him
He sighed
Lifting his head, he paused…and screamed, the dance began
Small gold mic clutched tightly in his hand
Speakers eagerly blast his words
Thrusting them deeply
Into the yearning heart of a hot Los Angeles night
